Honor, Valor, Ambition, and The Way of The Clan
by RougeBaron
Summary: Two young women were entrenched in a martial society known as the Clans, where life was short and everything was solved in a deadly duel of honor inside the Circle of Equal.
1. Prologue

**HONOR, VALOR, AMBITION, AND THE WAY OF THE CLAN**

_A BattleTech story by RougeBaron_

**Note:** With _I,Kere4sky_ gearing up for the climax, I am trying to "backlog" myself with another writing piece so I won't have to roll my thumbs when IK4 ends. There are several ideas that can be very interesting writing materials (thanks, **stonegnome1** and **The Colonel**), but I decided to do some sort of "prequel" to _I,Kerensky_ series. It is always nice, after all the main characters said and did on the main storyline, to go back in time and exploit the time when they were just naive, cocky, but oblivious young cadets.

This idea has been lingering in my head for a long time, but aside from 3 montage drawings at _deviantArt_, I haven't done anything to it. I was just being lazy. But since one of the main characters will take a critical position in **Ulquiorra9000**'s story _Steel Wolf_, I am poised to write this. This story will follow two young women in the Clan Invasion Era, and it also exposes the early life of Parker, my best BTech guy, although he won't take the spotlight from the main characters.

And I get to write in the Clan Invasion Era, something I always want to do.

_BattleTech/MechWarrior_ is copyright by _FASA, Wizkids, Topps, Smith and Tinker._

Rated R (M) for violence, gore, and sexual references.

* * *

><p><strong><span>PROLOGUE<span>**

"The only rules that really matter are these: what a man can do and what a man can't do. For instance, you can accept that your father was a pirate and a good man or you can't. But pirate is in your blood, boy, so you'll have to square with that some day".

~_ Pirates of the Caribbean_

**_Jumpship _Elizabeth Swann_,  
><em>**_**Butte Hold, Greater Valkyrate,  
><strong>__**June 5, 3033**_

Captain Jarvik Valentin watched the main screen as alarm blared throughout the jumpship, making his head throb in pain amidst the frantic bridge of the merchant-class jumpship. The radar highlighted half a dozen _Spad_-class aerospace fighters coming inbound with full speed, while their mother ship, a small frigate of unknown class, gallantly advanced toward his unarmed ship. Its forward-facing torpedo tubes lined up perfectly with the jumpship's hull, and Jarvik knew the fate of his ship.

"Who are these pirates?" Jarvik asked his frenetic officer, trying to sound calm without much success. "The Oberons? Redjack Ryans? Valkyrates?"

"Negative, Sir, this is something else," the officer answered with trembling voice. "Their ship is not registered in our database."

"Closest Lyran fleet?"

"Two days away, Sir!"

"Jump point?"

"Three hours away."

"And what's the fighters' ETA?"

"Fifteen minutes, Sir." Sweat beaded on the officer's forehead. "We're gonna die, aren't we Sir?"

"Nobody's gonna die today!" Jarvik croaked. "Turn this ship around and make it to the jump point, full speed! Get the passengers on the escape pods!" He turned to his first mate. "Take Marissa out of here."

Marissa, Jarvik's 7-year-old daughter, refused to leave the bridge when the first mate tried to take her. She held on to Jarvik's leg and screamed anytime the first mate touched her. She had been accompanying her father all her short life, but this was the first time she was under duress. A smart kid that she was, she knew something was going on: people shouting, alarm blaring, everybody running from station to station, and the panic expression of her father, everything told her that something terrible was looming. She immediately went to her safe place: between her father's legs.

"Marissa, sweetheart, listen to me," Jarvik said calmly. "How about a hide-and-seek? You hide on the escape pod, and I will find you."

"No, Papa! The ship is really loud," she tightened her grips on her father's legs. "I don't want to play on the escape pod…"

The _Spad_ fighters had reached effective range for the PPCs, and they wasted no time firing their weapons. The thin armor of the merchant-class jumpship couldn't hold the onslaught, and the engine exploded, sending tremendous quake throughout the ship. Jarvik was thrown across the room, and Marissa lost grip of her father. She rolled under the console, screaming as she saw ship crews lying in blood on top of each other. The first mate lied dead with his eyes looking straight into hers, with his face crimson red and mouth wide open.

"Damage report! Damage report!" Jarvik screamed, grimacing as he strained to get up.

"All engines are disabled, Sir! We're dead in space!"

"Spread the word: Abandon ship! Everybody to the escape pod!" Jarvik limped toward Marissa, dragged his screaming daughter from under the console, and struggled to make it to the escape pods. His crews stampeded on the corridor, and it took a great deal of Jarvik to stay standing amidst the frenzied crowd. The crowd raced to the escape pod, and Jarvik tottered toward the one on the last end of the line.

Unfortunately, the pirate frigate had caught up with the disabled merchant jumpship. It docked with the jumpship and carved a hole on its hull. Just when Jarvik and Marissa was about to reach the escape pod, three men came and blocked them. Standing between 5'5" to 5'10", these men wore colorful jumpsuits with myriads of pins and flashy accessories. The fume of tobacco reeked from their clothes.

"Pirates! Brigands! Thieves!" Jarvik growled, fighting the urge to curse in front of his daughter. "One day your days will end miserably! We don't have anything! We are just a jumpship carrying passengers! There's no precious cargo here! What is it you want?"

"As trading commodities, humans are as exotic as tobacco and spice, Captain," the man in the middle replied as he pulled out a cigar from his pocket. "There are a lot of people that want to pay a fortune for a beautiful little girl like yours."

"You sonofabitch!" Jarvik hissed. "You got the ship. It's more expensive than the entire crews and passengers. Just take the ship and let my daughter go."

"You don't have a choice," the pirate drew a sawed-off shotgun and shot Jarvik in the abs. The captain screamed and went to the floor, holding his stomach while breathing heavily. Marissa screamed as hard as she could, but she was completely overpowered when the burly pirate pried her off her father's grip.

"Just be grateful that a part of you survives this day," the pirate taunted the dying captain. "You have a pretty kid. I might just keep her for my own, although good-quality merchandise like this can benefit us a hundred fold."

"Bastard! Don't do this!" Jarvik whispered with his last breath. "Let her go!"

But the pirates turned around and went back to their mother ship, taking Marissa with them. The pirate frigate detached itself from the jumpship then sank two torpedoes at the jumpship broadside. As the jumpship exploded and split into two, the frigate slowly turned away and went back to the dark side of Butte Hold.


	2. Chapter 1

**CHAPTER I**

"Furth the sails. Ready for jump, mighty warriors. We journey back, we journey home, carrying the flame of the Star League back to the heart. We face the ignorant who believe themselves civilized and strong, but they will soon discover otherwise. We are the Clans, the Star League incarnate. None can stand against us and survive."

_~ The Remembrance, Passage 272, Verse 8, Line 11 - 19_

* * *

><p><em><strong>Tranquil, Kerensky Cluster,<br>**__**May 6, 3048**_

"FEAR! Fear me, whelps! Fear me and use your _stravag_ delicacy to conceive _freebirths_!"

The training officer, or drill instructor, or whatever his purpose was, stood fast in the middle of a grassy field in the temperate climate of Tranquil. Two more of his kind sandwiched him on his left and right. They were easily in their forties, evident from the wrinkles in their faces, but they were built far better than the bunch of sibko teenagers across the field. Standing taller than 6 feet, each of them had biceps as thick as the cadets' thighs, a sinister smile, and a spiteful stare, anxious to unleash their muscle power upon the teen bunch less than 50 meters in front of them.

Any reference to natural birth was an insult, and the officer's comment was no different. Clan culture severely looked down on natural birth. The superior beings, known as the Warrior Caste, were born out of Clan's eugenic program. They were sired by great warriors' DNA from the genetic pool and brought up in steel wombs. Their bodies were engineered to be stronger, faster, more agile, and more reflexive than _freeborns_, Clan's term for naturally-born humans. Along the way, they would also receive electronic implants to enhance their perception of the battle and to integrate with their battlemechs more.

These teenagers – seventeen years of age – were young _trueborns_ who just started training to be Wolf Clan warriors. They were eager to prove their worthiness, that they were strong _trueborns_ and not just some genetic inconsistencies like the _freebirths_. One cadet screamed his war chant and charged forward, straight into the face of the drill instructor. But he underestimated the dexterity of the older man. The instructor ducked low, slamming his shoulder into the cadet's abs as he got closer, then lifted the teenager into the air. With his arm he jerked the cadet's legs. The cadet came crashing down to the ground with a hideous boom. The instructor on the left picked him up and tossed him to the side like a log. The cadet tumbled like a wheel. Another one wanted tried similar thing, but the instructor on the right picked him up and sank his knee on the cadet's abs. The cadet reeled, retching, holding his stomach.

Cadet Abby of the Wolf didn't understand the purpose of this 'training', if such activity could be called training. It felt more like a manifestation of the trainer's frustration. In Wolf _touman_, only 5 percent of the warriors kept their places in Wolf Clan military ranks as they grew old. Those were the best of the best, and often they were the bloodnamed warriors of the Wolf Clan. The remaining 95 percent only served the Clan for several years before they were killed or replaced by younger, faster, stronger, and better warriors. The three training officers looked just like that, expired warriors who weren't even eligible for _solahma_ unit, so they had to beat up sibkos to channel their frustration.

Hector, Abby's large sibkin on her right, launched himself at the trainer on the right while Darien, the one on her left, charged the trainer on the center. Hector screamed his lung out, turning his 240+ pound body into a battering ram. But before the hulk slammed into the trainer, he flinched and easily busted Hector's knee with his heel. Hector's war scream turned into a wail as he rolled on the ground into a ditch. Darien tried to put his boxing skill to work, but within seconds his face became a punching bag. He sloshed to the ground, wheezing and coughing, and the trainer lifted him up and shoved him back toward the rest of the group.

"Weaklings! Is this all you got? This is it? And you call yourself _trueborns_?" the trainer on the center spat another burst of insult. "If you can only succeed through dishonor, then so be it! No _zellbrigen_! Come on, whelps! Give it all you got!"

A couple of cadets tried ganging up on the trainer, but even then their attempt was futile. The trainer was too quick and too strong for them. A quick slap on the face staggered one cadet, and while he was composing himself, the trainer went on the other one, unleashing a flurry of head blows in blinding speed. The cadet's head snapped before crashing down, hard, and crying in agony. The trainer quickly launched a kick to the dazed cadet's midsection, so hard his body flew several inches off the ground.

"You!" the trainer on the center singled out on Abby. "Do you feel your fear, _freebirth_?"

Abby knew a frontal attack would be futile and could end up catastrophically. She could lose an arm, a leg, a will to survive, or even her life. But she could not ignore the trainer. _Freebirth_ was the most obscene insult in Clan culture, and she just had to defend herself. No, she didn't feel fear. She was a _trueborn_, and no _trueborn_ felt fear. She cried out, firing a series of roundhouse kicks like a windmill. Then a straight kick to the midsection. Then another sweeping kick to the trainer's head. Then a series of punches to the head.

The trainer blocked every single one of Abby's assault, then simply swept Abby's leg. Abby's body flew backward, and she landed on her back, legs flailing in the air. The trainer grabbed hold of her neck and pinned her to the ground. "You are done, weakling!" he spat. "We are the Wolf, the first and the foremost among the Clans. There is no place for weakling like you in the _touman_!" He got up, grabbed Abby's left wrist and right ankle, then flung the 17-year-old _trueborn_ girl back toward where she came from. Abby hit the ground in a loud crash that shattered her mind. Her head throbbed so hard she lied on the ground for a while, trying to compose herself.

"Get up, Abby," Darien came and grabbed her shoulder, pushing her to a sitting position. His face was black and blue, and trails of blood adorned his nose. Darien and Hector were the closest sibkins to Abby, and while Hector and Abby were light skinned and robust like most of the cadets in the sibko, Darien was dark, feeble, and short. Even Abby was taller than Darien. This irregularity prompted her to make fun of him that perhaps Darien's gene was contaminated with genetic material from Clan 'Cwazy Woozle', her made-up moniker for the extinct Clan Mongoose. Nevertheless, Darien never took it to the heart, and the three became close friends.

"Where is Hector?" Darien asked as the trainers continued their insults and assault of the cadets.

"He is coming," Abby wheezed, pointing at Hector who was limping badly. "By the look of it, he may not survive this day."

"This is outrage!" Hector grimaced as he gathered with his sibkins. "This is not training!"

"Do you want to survive this day?" Darien said, half whispering. "We have to take out that _stravag_ trainer on the center. Then maybe the council will see us worthy of real training instead of this absurdity. Hector, you do what you did. Abby, you too. I will prelude our combined attack…"

"That is a disgrace, Darien!" Abby snorted. "I will not lower myself to _dezgra_ the first day of my training!"

"He said no _zellbrigen_, quiaff?" Darien replied. "Quiaff?"

"Aff, no _zellbrigen_," Hector responded enthusiastically. "Quiaff, Abby?"

"Aff," Abby was forced to agree with Darien's assessment. "No _zellbrigen_."

"Then let us finish this strong," Darien slapped Hector's and Abby's shoulders. "I will go first, you follow me two steps behind. Do not hold back; attack the trainer with everything you have. Ready? Now!"

The three of them charged the trainer on the center, the vilest one among the trainers. Darien ran straight at him, Abby followed him slightly on his left, Hector on the right. The trainer shot a derogatory smile at the cadet trio. He twisted left, using his left leg as an anchor while his right leg hung freely, ready to deliver the crushing blow at the charging cadets.

Just when Darien and the trainer was about to collide, Darien made a hard left turn. The trainer, already flinging his right leg to kick Darien, kicked void and lost balance. He ended up in an awkward, off-centered, out-of-balance position, facing Hector who was charging him like a bull. He switched legs to kick Hector with his left leg but he was too late. Hector slammed into his abs, taking him off the ground in a loud, unexpected collision.

As Hector locked himself with the trainer, Abby went airborne and unleashed a scissor kick, trapping the trainer's head between her shins. She twisted as hard as she could. Something snapped, and the trainer's body went limp. Hector brought him down, and the two rolled on the grass for quite a while. But long after Hector steadied himself on the grass, the trainer still rolled, and only stopped when his body hit a pile of dirt.

"Whelps! On the ground, now!" the other two trainers roared, forcing the cadets to lie on the ground. Abby lifted her head, watching one of the trainers shouting orders to keep the cadets on the ground, while the other rushed to check on the downed trainer. A beastly satisfaction blossomed in Abby's heart as the abusive trainer didn't show any signs of getting up. The other trainer checked on him, and just as she expected, he ended up screaming from the top of his lung…

"Medic! Medic!"


	3. Chapter 2

**Chapter II**

**Author's Note:**

**TheColonel382**: Yes, it is! That's what the speech about going back in time to see the characters as young cadets is all about.  
><strong>Ulquiorra9000<strong>: Thanks for the correction. I have to fight laziness to go back and edit the last chapter, but I will eventually.

"In an honest service there is thin commons, low wages, and hard labor; in this, plenty and satiety, pleasure and ease, liberty and power; and who would not balance creditor on this side, when all the hazard that is run for it, at worst, is only a sour look or two at choking. No, a merry life and a short one, shall be my motto."

_~ Bartholomew "Black Bart" Roberts_

* * *

><p><strong><em>Pirate Destroyer <em>Infinite Bound_,  
>Butte Hold, Greater Valkyrate,<br>June 3, 3048  
><em>**

"_We don't have anything! We are just a jumpship carrying passengers! There's no precious cargo here! What is it you want?"  
><em>"_There are a lot of people that want to pay a fortune for a beautiful little girl like yours."  
><em>"_You sonofabitch! You got the ship. It's more expensive than the entire crews and passengers. Just take the ship and let my daughter go."  
><em>"_You don't have a choice."  
><em>"_You have a pretty kid. I might just keep her for my own, although good-quality merchandise like this can benefit us a hundred fold."  
><em>"_Bastard! Don't do this! Let her go!"  
><em>"_Let her go!"  
><em>"_Let her go!"_

Marissa Valentin shot up from her bed like a spring, wheezing and gasping for air. Her hair, her face, her undies, everything was drenched in cold sweat. Her hands still balled up, gripping the thin bed sheet, almost stripping it from the bed. It was the same dream every night in the last 15 years since she was ripped off from her father. It had been 15 years, but it still felt like yesterday.

Still panting, Marissa dragged her feet to the water sink. She cranked up the tap to run the water hot, then sank her face into the warm pool. Everyday she wished the warm water could take away the bad memory and the hatred she had been nurturing for15 years, but she knew it didn't work that way. It only gave her a brief soothing massage on her face to start her day.

When she calmed down from her nightmarish tremble, she looked up and found the reflection of her topless body in the mirror. She still remembered that she had pigtails the last night with her father. Now her hair was cut short with uneven flares between the left and right side. She had not forgotten how tall his father was, but it was hard to measure against her 5'7". Her luscious breasts hung majestically under her collarbone. Her emerald eyes were the only thing she didn't like about herself. They were full of hatred and vengeance.

Yes, barring her eyes, she was a fine specimen in the middle of this mongrel pool, which was why she couldn't think of a reason why the pirate leader kept her. She learnt how much underground human trafickers wanted to pay for her, and the numbers gave her goosebumps. And it was not like the pirate gang didn't get any offer. Bids flowed like beers from the kegs, and the highest bid could send each and every member of the gang to an early retirement.

But no, the pirate leader kept her. He trained her in the art of dogfighting, harder than he trained any of his subordinates. He trained her in the counter-navigational system to avoid running into Lyran heavy opposition. And he trained her to stand up against the rest of the pirates. No pirates had ever raised their voice against her, or touched her with their dirty hands (and minds), and it was not always because of the fear of the leader. They, too, feared her.

From the reflection in the mirror she saw the bundle of blanket on her bed moved, then a head popped out from between the creases. The head hosted a pair of dark eyes, which looked at her with sympathy, shaggy brown hair, and a pair of lips Marissa happened to find very mischievous, although for many many nights, those mischievous lips was the only thing that made her life worthwhile. A couple of seconds passed, then an empathic comment slipped past those velvety lips, "Same dream?"

"Hm hm…"

"I wish I could take it away from you…"

"No, Seth, you can't. It's a part of me. It's what makes me what I am. I don't wish for anybody to take it from me. I just wish I didn't have to wake up every night, wishing that it didn't happen."

Seth was the only thing that made her sane in this pirate ship. Like herself, he was a boy snatched from his parents when his jumpship was attacked. He was brought up by the leader, but unlike Marissa, Seth had to go through hell to join the ranks of the pirates. Every inch of his body was scarred, a testament of a hard pirate life. Marissa had touched every scar in his body, and she didn't even want to imagine what caused them. Compared to him, her torment was easy.

Seth, the boy about her age, climbed out of the blanket pile and wrapped his arms around her. He kissed her naked shoulder from behind, and Marissa let out a coo of joy. People with the same background tend to gravitate toward each other, and Marissa and Seth were no different. They were two kids separated from their families, and they found comfort in each other. And soon enough, they found themselves very comfortable in each other's hands without the barrier of their clothings.

"Sweet, poor Marissa," Seth hummed, showering her shoulder with kisses. "Let me make things better…"

A soft buzz awakened stopped him from his advance. Marissa pushed Seth gently then walked to the comset and stabbed the receiver button. It was the pirate leader himself. "Marissa, come to the bridge. There's something I need to show you."

"I'll be right there." She put on a thick robe on her body, boots on her feet, then noticed that Seth was doing the same thing. "Where are you going?" she quipped. "Don't you still have something for me?"

"You're his favorite," Seth replied with a hint of venom in his voice. "If he catches me in your quarter, he's gonna whip me until my flesh is separated from my bones."

"Nobody has the right to tell me who I can sleep with and who I can't," Marissa scoffed.

"True, but he has the right to tell me who I can't sleep with, and that's you," Seth buckled his shoes. "Look, Marissa, he owns me. I'm just his possession, nothing more, nothing less. I still want to see you, so please understand. Let's play this smart. Who knows what the future brings us." He kissed Marissa quickly before leaping toward the door. "I'd better get out of here before somebody sees me."

Marissa waited a couple of minute before she took a long walk toward the bridge. Not many pirates were still up at this hour. Most of them had been knocked out by liquors, and those who were still around were at the bottom of the pecking order: slaves, people they took from their victimized ships, just like Seth and herself. The bridge of the destroyer reeked stale food, almost making her throw up. The pirate leader, along with his loyal first and second mates, had been using the bridge as their dinner room as well as their tactical chamber, which was evident from the scattered plates and stripped bones all across the floor.

"I know, I know, I should've got this mess cleaned up," the pirate leader grumbled from across the room, catching Marissa's expression.

"I don't mind," Marissa fibbed as she walked slowly across the bridge. "What is it you want to tell me?"

"Come here, lass, I have something you will be interested in," the pirate leader put his foul-stenched, greasy hand on Marissa's shoulder. He put up a holographic map of Butte Hold on the center of the room. "Look, Butte Hold has been the home for several pirates for the last two decades. Most of them go down to the surface to ravage the sorry locals by mechs, but nobody really put effort to conquer the space. We're the only one so far that hunt treasures primarily on space.

"Therefore, I am thinking of firming our dominance in this area. I am creating a squadron specifically to hunt jumpships going into Butte Hold system. These jumpships should carry a lot of supplies for the people on the surface. At the same time we will choke other pirates from good materials. Soon enough, people will know who the king of Butte Hold system is."

"Good plan," Marissa said unenthusiastically as she tossed the leader's hand off her shoulder. "Is there more?"

"You should've been more ecstatic about it, lass," the pirate leader grinned. "You're leading this new squadron."

Marissa turned around and looked at the pirate's face. "Me?"

"Yes, you. You're the best pilot around here. Everybody knows that."

"I am not the most experienced pilot around. How about Seth? He's a good pilot and a good leader. He'll be a better squadron leader than I am."

The pirate leader showered her with a quizzical look. "Seth? I don't know what you're smoking, lass. Seth is stupid, lazy, and irresponsible. He'll get himself killed on his first mission, and if he's leading my new squadron, he'll get everybody killed! I don't understand why you don't want this position. Most people here will kill the entire ship to have your position!"

"It's such a big responsibility and I'm just 22. There are many more pilots that are more capable than I do. I just feel that it's not my time yet."

"I train you with my own hands," the pirate leader started to lose his patience. "I know what you're capable and what you're not. I know you can handle this, Marissa. So let me ask you one more time: do you, or do you not want to be the squadron leader?"

Marisssa just wished she didn't have anything to do with the pirates. It was not the life she wanted, and becoming the squadron leader would only suck her deeper into the abyss. But she knew the consequences of rejection. The pirate leader always got what he wanted. Denying him would only make things worse.

"On one condition," Marissa said carefully. "I want Seth to be my wingman."

"That putz?" the pirate leader cringed. "What do you see in him, lass? He hasn't put his dirty hands on you, has he?"

Marissa swallowed a hard gulp before responding, "Seth is a good pilot and a great navigator. I need his experience, and I think he can help build up the squadron."

"Alright, whatever you say," the pirate leader grumbled. "So congratulations, Marissa. I'll see to it that your fighters are ready by tomorrow. Then you can start working. We'll take Butte Hold like a storm, then everybody will know our name. Now you go back and celebrate, young lass. Or go do whatever it is you were doing before I summoned you. Or whatever."

"Thank you," Marissa gave a small nod and a little bow, then stormed out of the bridge. _Who knows what the future will bring_, Seth said earlier. She didn't want any part of this new squadron, but it could be her way out. Going up in ranks would earn her more trust from the pirate leader, which meant more leeway in doing her missions. Then, maybe then, she could find a hole to leave this cursed life for good.


	4. Chapter 3

**Chapter III**

"Here, with the Strana Mechty wolf, we see what may be the epitome of a warrior, cunning matched with instinct and stealth, joined with a final, terrifying attack. For this mighty creature, I name you. You are Clan Wolf."

_~Nicholas Kerensky, 2810_

* * *

><p><em><strong>Tranquil, Kerensky Cluster,<br>**__**July 15, 3048**_

It was more than 2 months after Abby, Darien, and Hector injured their training officer, but the uproar was far from over. The incident made them instant celebrities. Fellow cadets threw envy and dissent at them. Trainers and drill instructors singled out on them at every opportunity, harassing and harangueing them, challenging them to repeat their stunt against much harder obstacles. Real mechwarriors and Elementals picked a fight with them, challenging them in a Circle of Equals for no apparent reasons. And Wolf high commanders put them under their microscopes, watching them closely, wondering if their stunt was a product of tactical ingenuity or just a one-hit wonder.

Despite the surge in physical and mental abuse, Darien and Hector enjoyed the attention. They had to face much harsher conditions than their sibkins, but it prepared them better than anybody in their sibko. Hector was the one that benefited most from the physical abuse. All the fights against seasoned warriors – some of them Elementals – he had to do everyday bulked up his body. Standing 6'5" with nothing but muscles covering his bones, he could pass as a small Elemental. Darien didn't improve as much but there was significant increase of muscles on his body.

Abby, on the contrary, didn't care much about everything. The training incident opened her eyes about her future and her dream to become one of the greatest mechwarriors Wolf had ever seen. She knew that, out of dozens of members of a sibko, only 1 or 2 would be accepted into warrior's caste. Others would die or be sent to lower castes. That meant one day she would have to fight Darien or Hector for the prestigious position, because such was the way of the Clan.

Hector would pose no problem. He was all brawn and no brain. Darien was different. He saw things normal people didn't. He was not aggressive like Hector or even herself, but he could always sneak his way out of trouble. He could make a very dangerous obstacle in her quest to become a Wolf legend. The more Abby thought about it, the more she felt insecure.

"How did you see it, Darien?" Abby couldn't suppress her anxiety anymore as she took a break from firearm training with Darien and Hector. "How could you find a way to beat the training officer? We all have the same training, the same trainer, the same things throughout our lives. Why did you see it and I did not?"

Darien gave her a quizzical look. "Why are you still thinking about it, Abby?"

"I just want to know why," Abby answered, trying hard to conceal her true feelings. "I mean, how many of us were in the field? Twenty? Thirty? That _stravag_ trainer beat us all day, and nobody could beat him. Not a damn soul! Then suddenly you pulled a trick from your sleeve and bang… the trainer was gone."

"_We_, Abby, _we_ did it together," Hector snapped. "Give credit to yourself. Darien could not do it alone. You could not do it alone. And you know damn well I could not do it alone. But together, we are unstoppable even by the trainer. We make the best team in the sibko. Maybe we make the best team in the history of sibko. So do not try to account whose credit it should go to. It was a team effort, and you should just be glad you are in the right team."

"I am not trying to account credits here," Abby snorted, slightly annoyed at Hector's accusation. "I am trying to analyze the situation. Do you not want to know what really took place? Do you not want to know how to do it yourself? Instead of relying on anybody, you should have an ambition that you can rely on yourself to do anything."

"Hector is right, Abby," Darien tuned in. "We are different, and each of us contributes something that makes us a great team. You are the most skillful one. Hector is the strongest one. And I…" he stopped for a while, trying to find the right word without upsetting Abby more. "I am the meticulous one. I cannot ask to be as skillful as you or as strong as Hector. The same with you, you cannot ask to be as meticulous as me or as strong as Hector, because we are different. But you can use my meticulousness and Hector's muscle for the benefit of us."

Abby grabbed Dariens' shirt and pulled it toward her, forcing him to look into her eyes. "We are from the same gene pool. We are not that different. I should have what you have, Darien. Hector should have what you have. It is imprinted at the back of our minds. Somehow you found a way to use it, and it is obvious you do not want to share it with us. I think you want to take everything for yourself."

"Abby, look at us!" Darien slapped Abby's hands, freeing himself from Abby's grip. "Look at Hector! His biceps are as big as your head! Are you saying you can be as big as him because you are from the same gene pool with him? And take a close look at me! Which way do you think that we are not that much different? We do not share the same skin color, we do not share the same hair color, we do not even share the same eye color. Why can you not accept what you are and benefit from other's assets?"

"Yeah, what is with this sudden outburst of yours, Abby?" Hector joined the argument. "We are the perfect team! We have strength, skill, and insight. Why are you trying to take everything for yourself?"

Getting pinned from two directions mellowed Abby out. She backed off, letting the situation to taper off. But inside she was far from finished. "All I asked was how you did it, Darien," she muttered angrily. "Why is it so hard for you to tell me? Are you keeping a secret from us?"

"I do not know how I did it, Abby," Darien puffed an exasperated sigh. "I just saw a hole in the trainer's defense. Why did I see it and you did not? The same with the fact why Hector became a muscle mountain from the constant harassment while you and I did not. Why does he benefit so much from it while we are miserable because of it? I do not know. Each of us has different talents, Abby. Just accept it and let it go."

"So that is it, then? We just have to rely on each other?"

"We are the Wolves, Abby," Hector nodded enthusiastically. "Wolves hunt in packs. We are not like a Jaguar or a Falcon who relies on individual prowess. That is why we achieved great things the Smoke Jaguars or the Jade Falcons could only dream of. We are the first among the Clans. And when we drive toward Terra, we will be ilClan. That is the way of our Clan."

Abby could not argue with that, and she did not want to challenge her friend's standpoint on Wolf's doctrine of warfare. But although Wolf Clan relied heavily on teamwork, there would be time when the Wolf Clan demanded a proof that she was the best among her sib-mates. She had been close to Darien and Hector since childhood, but when the day came, she would have to see them as threats. It aggravated her to no end, thinking that the closest individuals to her posed the greatest threat for her quest. But it was the way of the Clan.

Wolves might hunt in packs, but Abby was the Lone Wolf. And as the Lone Wolf, Abby hunted alone.

"I am the Lone Wolf," Abby whispered, just as the horn blared, signaling the cadets to come back to the training ground. "I am the best of my pack. I am the only one. And I rely on nobody."


	5. Chapter 4

**Chapter IV**

**Author's Note**:  
><strong>Ulquiorra9000: <strong>Abby is a perfectionist. You'll see more about her obsession of greatness in the next few chapters.**  
>Mosin<strong>: Glad to hear from you again. I'm glad you enjoy this story and it reminds you of my old style. I am actually trying to get back to the gritty, angsty, and emotional style of IK1 and IK2. So stick around. You'll see more.

"Now, I know, as much as I can know anything, that to travel into wonder is to be wonder. So it matters little whether I travel by plane, by rowboat, or by book. Or, by dream. I do not see, for there is no I to see. That is what the pirates know. There is only seeing and, in order to go to see, one must be a pirate."

_~ Kathy Acker_

* * *

><p><strong><em>Pirate Destroyer <em>Infinite Bound_,  
>Butte Hold, Greater Valkyrate,<br>July 16, 3048_**

The SPD-502 _Spad_ was a remarkable aerospace fighter. At only 30 tons, it sported a PPC, a medium laser, and a small laser, covering all ranges from hunting transports to dogfighting. Eight tons of armor was enough to withstand a direct hit from a capital ship and still make it back to the base. The ease of maintenance resulted in minimum cost for repair and reload, which was beneficial for the pirate band that didn't have a real mechanic on board. All maintenance was done mostly by the pilot's preferences.

Marissa stood under one of the _Spads_, the one that was designated for her. One of the hangar crews had just finished painting her name on the fuselage, and upon her request, he started putting '_A Son's First Hero, A Daughter's First Love_' on the barrel of the PPC, as a memory of her father. It might not be a wise inscription to be carved on a pirate's property, since her father died in the hands of the very same pirate band that she was a member of. But she wanted to be with her father when she went to battle, and this was the closest she could get.

"One day somebody would figure out that you still hold a grudge over your loss," Seth stood by her, watching the crew paint Marissa's inscription. "You have to be careful putting things up on your ship."

"Let it be," Marissa replied without taking her eyes off the crewman. "They could lash me a thousand times for all I care. I don't give a damn. This is my aerofighter. I'm putting up anything I want."

"Fine, then," Seth gave her a gentle tap on the shoulder. "Anyway, thank you for making me your wingman. It is a great honor, and I am flattered."

"Then don't make me regret it," Marissa turned to face Seth, mischievous but deadly serious. "Prove it to me that you're my wingman not because of your skill in bed, but because of your skill in the cockpit. Make me proud."

Seth shot a small smile and nodded. "Your wish is my command. You will not be disappointed."

Four more pirates came to Marissa's presence. They were old pirates, veteran pilots who had been in the business for a long time. The aura of their faces and their body language told her that they were utterly displeased by the fact that they had to fly under the leadership of Marissa, a 22-year-old girl who had no experience in leading a squadron to battle. The only reason she outranked the veteran pilots was because she was the favorite of the pirate leader, and she knew it as much as they knew it. But as the commanding officer, she had to find a way to win their obedience.

"Gentlemen," she addressed her squadron mates. "You all have a lot more flying experience than me. Some of you have been flying for our group for more than 10 years. I respect that, and I respect all of you. But when we go out hunting, it is not a matter of seniority. It is a matter of rank. I am the commanding officer of this squadron. I give order, and I expect each and every one of you to carry it. If you disagree with this situation, you may challenge me and we can solve it in whatever means satisfies you. So, before we go out hunting, is there somebody who wants to bring up this matter?"

Although they showered her with furious stare, nobody stepped out. Marissa expected it. The leader of the pirate band was a ruthless man, and everybody feared him. Nobody dared to speak out because of the consequences of squaring things up with the leader. Marissa understood that her squad mates would obey her command not out of respect, but out of fear. However, it was good enough for her. After all, they were pirates. Fear was the only one that could restore order among them.

"Alright, then," she continued. "We intercepted communication radio between Lyran Commonwealth and some periphery merchants. The merchants will enter Butte Hold system within 2 hours, and the Lyrans will pick them up at the jump point and escort them in land. We will intercept the Lyran force, so when the merchants arrive, they will meet nothing but us. We will force them to surrender their cargo. If they refuse, we will waste them." She paused briefly, gauging their reactions, and was pleased when nobody argued. "Gentlemen, let's hunt."

Seth and the four veteran pilots dispersed and walked toward their own _Spads_. Marissa followed them with her eyes until everybody sat on the cockpit, then climbed the ladder to get to her own fighter. She started the engine and checked the fighter's vital stats, then fired up her engine. Blue flame licked from the _Spad's_ exhaust, and she felt tremendous G-force pushing her to her seat. The _Spad_ sped up through the short launching tube, and only seconds later, Marissa was out in space. Her squadron mates followed up one by one, forming up immediately without questions. Everybody fell in quetly and nicely.

The flight to the jump point was dark, cold, and uneventful, so much that Marissa dozed off several times while she burnt the hour. About 5 kilometers from the jump point, far before her radar could pick up the signal from any ship, she saw four silver dots gliding toward the jump point. Adrenaline spike doubled her heart rate, and she scrambled her console to capture the signature of the ships. But nothing in her aerofighter had long enough range to get the signature of the ships.

"Heads up," Marissa hailed her squadron mates. "Visual contact with 4 unidentified flyers. Does anybody catch the type of the ships?"

"Looks like _Tigress_ gunships," one of the more experienced pilots chirped. "Nothing fancy on the weapon department. They have one PPC, one LRM15, and four medium lasers. They have thick hides but also fat asses, strong but slow."

"Alright, split into 3 wings," Marissa gave her order. "Concentrate fire on one ship at a time, starting from the closest one. Aim for the engines. Don't get too close so they can't use their medium lasers. Seth, you're going in with me. Let's bring them down!"

Seth moved into position at Marissa's left flank while the other four arranged themselves into 2 wings. Coming into 1.5 kilometers inbound, the Spad's radar picked up the signal from the ships, and they were indeed _Tigress_ patrol crafts. They knew they were being attacked, so they arranged themselves in phalanx formation, covering all corners. As the pirate aerofighters reached 1 kilometer mark, they fired their missiles in widespread fashion, hoping to scare off the invaders.

"Missiles inbound!" Seth screamed on the comlink.

"Evasive maneuver! Dive! Dive! Dive!" Marissa yanked his joystick, bringing her Spad pitched up into a quarter loop. One missile slammed into her left wing, forcing her to bank hard to the left to compensate the momentum. Armor chips sprayed from the impact spot, and Marissa took a quick glance to her left wing to see a bad gash at the place where her aileron was supposed to be. She cursed, acknowledging her luck that she was flying in space without the benefit of air.

"You alright there?" Seth's voice came in through the comlink.

"Affirmative," Marissa responded quickly. "Stay on target. Take the shot whenever you can!"

Seth's _Spad_ spearheaded the pirate formation, eating the gap with the _Tigress_ crafts in no time. He opened fire, drilling several layers of armor with his PPC. The other pirates followed his lead, taking turns in carving the _Tigress_' armor into scrap. The hull armor still held, but the electrical charge fried half of its electronics. The bulky gunship reeled as it lost control of its course, breaking off the phalanx formation.

The other three _Tigress _crafts fired their PPCs with furious accuracy. One _Spad_ was hit squarely on the fuselage. The _Spad_'s thin armor breached all the way to the reactor casing. Blue plasma spewed from under the wing, and the pirate _Spad_ limped aimlessly, falling into 300 meters away from the _Tigress_ crafts. A violent medium-laser salvo leapt from the gunships' tubes, mercilessly ripping the _Spad_ apart.

As the _Spad_ exploded into brilliant flares, Marissa sneaked behind the fireball to line up with the rear side of the limping _Tigress_. She aimed at the big, flickering rocket exhaust of the _Tigress_ and stabbed it with her PPC. The exhaust blasted, sending the dying gunship spiraling in space. Her squadron mates picked up where she left off. Energy bolts rained down on the gunship, reducing it into a scorching space junk.

"Good work!" Marissa yelled. "We lost one of us, so keep it tight! Three more gunships to rake!"

The three remaining _Tigress_ gunships let loose a hail of missiles, but Marissa turn her fighter away from them, leaving the missiles to sail harmlessly into void. She came back, crisscrossing her course to avoid return fire from the gunships, then sank a PPC bolt into the exhaust of the closest _Tigress_. The exhaust roared into flames, but the _Tigress_ still had enough strength to stay afloat. Seth and the remaining _Spads_ lined up with the _Tigress_ and busted the other exhausts. The gunship bled fire, slowly went belly-up as its engines turned into a bonfire.

Losing two comrades made the remaining two _Tigress_'s desperate. They fired every weapon in their arsenal, covering their positions with missiles and energy bolts. But it only made things worse. Soon their missiles ran out and their medium lasers were miserably out of range. Their only effective weapons were the PPC, but with slow recycle time, they were next to useless against the fast and agile _Spads_.

Marissa kept her squadron away from the gunships, circling them from outside the range of their medium lasers, while hitting them with PPCs. Soon both _Tigress_ were set ablaze, one exploded, the other floated aimlessly. Marissa took a deep breath and slumped on her chair, watching the last _Tigress_ slowly drifted away from the jump point. One by one the remaining _Spads_ fell in in Vee formation, with Marissa as the center point.

"Not bad for your first time," Seth crackled on her headset. "Don't be surprised when the Steiner put a bounty on your head."

It made her scoff. One of the benchmarks of a pirate's life achievement was the bounty on his head. The larger the money, the more successful he was. Of course, it was not the standard she wanted her life to be measured with. Several months ago she would've been disgusted by the thought of attacking a Steiner convoy and robbing unarmed transports. But now she just realized that she was actually good at the same stunt that cost her father his life. There was no greater irony than that.

Just then, six KR-61 shuttles arrived from hyperspace.

"Attention transports, this is Marissa Valentin speaking," she hailed the transports. "Your escorts have been eliminated. You have 2 minutes to turn off your engines and surrender the transports to me. If my demand is not met, I will destroy your ships and give you no quarters. Consider your situation wisely before you decide something."

It took the transports less than 2 minutes to obey Marissa's command.


	6. Chapter 5

**Chapter V**

**Author's Note**: Helina and Akela belong to **Kat Wylder**. All rights reserved.

"Let all warriors bear their mark proudly,  
>Taking what pride they can in their accomplishments;<br>For our lives should be full of glory, but short.  
>On the battlefield, we are alone."<p>

_~ The Remembrance, Passage 74, Verse 26, Lines 1-4_

* * *

><p><em><strong>Battlemech Training Ground,<br>**__**Tranquil, Kerensky Cluster,  
><strong>__**January 5, 3049**_

"So you are one of the bunch that busted Star Commander Roauld, _quiaff_?"

Abby tried not to look into the trainer's eyes, but it was difficult since she stood just inches away from her nose, stabbing her with her ice-cold blue eyes. The trainer, a woman in her mid-20's, gave up almost 6 inches to Abby, but her deadly intensity made Abby feel that she was actually bigger than her.

"Aff, Ovkhan, but it was a training accident…"

"Do not defend yourself, whelp!" the trainer roared. "Star Commander Roauld chose to fight dishonorably to prove that he was still eligible for the front liners. His reckless stunt to abandon _zellbrigen_ was a disgrace. It is about time that he left the warrior's caste. You actually did the Wolf touman a favor, whelp, so never – ever – be apologetic about it. Do I make myself clear, cadet?"

"Yes, Ovkhan," Abby nodded, flashing a small smile. It was the first time somebody took her side regarding the indicent, and it felt like a drop of hot, harsh desert.

"My name is Star Commander Helina of the Wolf. I will train you to ride and battle in an omnimech, the pinnacle of Clan's military power. What is your name, whelp?"

"Abby, Ovkhan. Abby of the Wolf."

"Well, Abby, you have been briefed about mechwarrior's gear. Suit up and mount the training _Fire Moth_ on the field. I will guide you through your introduction to battlemech warfare from the command center."

Without waiting for Abby's response, Helina turned and walked out of the hangar. Abby went to one of the changing stations, stripped her clothes barring her undies and boots, then grabbed the cooling vest handed by a technician. She caught the tech stealing glance at her breasts, and she could challenge him and beat him up in a Circle of Equal, but she saved it for another day. She had been waiting for this day practically all her life, and the thrill of finally riding a battlemech overwhelmed her.

The tech handed her a neurohelmet, and she walked toward the decrepit-looking, vaguely humanoid, 20-ton omnimech parked just outside the hangar. It was the _Fire Moth Prime_ variant, armed with 2 medium lasers, 1 SRM6, and 1 SRM4. In her mind, she imagined herself thumbing her triggers to fire those weapons, while on the other end, a Jade Falcon _Jenner IIC_ staggered in its death throes as Abby's missiles clobbered its damaged torso. The Jade Falcon mechwarrior cried in agony, but Abby responded by sending more missiles to the torso. The _Jenner IIC_ exploded like a volcano.

Climbing into the cockpit, Abby strapped herself to the command seat then checked the vitals. The weapons were locked, so she couldn't fire them. All other systems were on nominal condition. She established a communication link to the command center, and Helina's face appeared on the main screen.

"Before you start the engine, verify your battlemech," Helina stated.

"_Fire Moth Prime_, 20 tons, Firebox 200-rated extra-light fusion engine, Class-20 Endo Steel structure, 2 tons of ferro-fibrous armor, 2 medium lasers, one SRM6 and one SRM4 missile launchers, maximum speed 162 kph, 216 kph with Myomer Acceleration Signal Circuitry."

"What is its greatest asset?"

"Speed, Ovkhan."

"What is its primary weakness?"

"Thin armor overall."

"A lone Jade Falcon bandit battlemech?"

"Destroy it."

"A star of Smoke Jaguars?"

"Inspect each battlemech to get recorded in battleROM, then engage MASC and escape."

"Very good, Cadet Abby, you did your homework," Helina chimed with a hint of satisfaction in her voice. "Now connect your neurohelmet to the console and start your battlemech."

Abby did as such, but she wasn't prepared to sustain the feedback signal from the neurohelmet when she started the engine. The feedback signal hit her like a tidal wave so hard she thought she almost blacked out. Her head throbbed, her body arched forward, her muscles spasmed, and tears started running from her eyes. She grabbed her helmet, trying involuntary to strip it, but she knew once she opened her neurohelmet, the training was over, and she might not have a chance to do it again. So she hung on for dear life, sweating, groaning, crying, hyperventilating, but staying still in her command couch.

"It takes sometime to get used to the neurohelmet feedback signal, but I expect you to be better than anybody else I have ever trained," Helina's voice came in as intermittent bursts. "Control your battlemech, whelp. Show me you have what it takes to be a Wolf Clan mechwarrior!"

Abby mustered every bit of her energy to stay conscious (and sane) throughout the process, and after a while, she overcame it. She opened her eyes and, while still panting, looked outside the canopy. The fact that everything was just the same as before told her that her mech was still standing idly in place. She grabbed the joysticks then called Helina, "I am ready, Ovkhan."

"The stub on your right joystick is for torso twist. Rotate it to the right."

Abby flicked it with her thumb, and the _Fire Moth_ torso-twisted to the right. The shifting of the center of mass sent a powerful feedback signal to the neurohelmet, and once again Abby found herself writhing on her command seat, groaning in agony. But this time it didn't feel as bad as the first time. Abby could still open her eyes and watch technicians walking in and out of the hangar, completely oblivious of what was taking place inside the cockpit of the _Fire Moth_.

"Most cadets fall on their first torso twist sequence, including your friends Darien and Hector," Helina came again. "You are one of few who stay upright. Congratulations, Cadet. You have my full attention now. Torso-twist some more to get the hang of it."

Helina's comment put a smile on Abby's face, although she was still sweating profusely, and tears still flooded her eyes. She did what Helina suggested, torso-twisting from left to right, testing the limit of the _Fire Moth_'s firing arc. Every single time the neurohelmet tortured her with wicked feedback signal that made her retching, but it got better with each repetition, and Abby overcame it quicker and quicker. "I am ready, Ovkhan."

"I am sending the coordinate of Nav Alpha to your computer," Helina said. "It is 5 kilometers out of the hangar. The throttle is in your lefthand side. The steer is in your right joystick. Make it to Nav Alpha. I will contact you once you reach it." She paused to clear her throat, then continued, "The record for a first-time cadet to finish this level is 3 minutes 46 seconds in a _Kit Fox, _set by Mechwarrior Akela of the Wolf. I want to see you beat it."

The maximum speed the _Fire Moth_ could achieve was nearly doubled of that of a _Kit Fox_, but this level was not all about speed. It was about battlemech control. It would need a superb control of the battlemech to reach 5 kilometers in less than 4 minutes. Abby knew she had great control of her battlemech, but she wasn't sure if she was at the same level as the so-called Akela.

But she wanted her name on the board as the record holder, and there was only one way to find out if she could do it or not. Abby pushed the throttle to 30 percent. The _Fire Moth_ jerked, and a massive feedback signal tore her senses apart. She tried to overcome it but it was just too much. The _Fire Moth_ swayed comically then fell face down, shattering the canopy.

"_Stravag!_" Abby hissed as she yanked her joystick left and right. "Get up! Get up you piece of junk!" She realized she should've started with 10 or 20 percent throttle. Thirty percent was a little ambitious, and now she was losing precious time by falling. She managed to bring her mech up, cursed as she realized she lost more than 30 seconds just from the fall, then pushed the throttle to 10 percent. The _Fire Moth_ gracefully marched away from the hangar. Abby steered it toward Nav Alpha, then throttled up to 40 percent. The rhythmical thrum of the _Fire Moth_'s feet became faster. Comfortable, Abby pushed the throttle all the way up, and the 20-ton mech burst into a full-speed sprint.

The feedback was still bothering her but this time it was different. It wasn't viciously nerve-wrecking like before. It was just an annoying tickle in her brain as the _Fire Moth_ zipped through the training ground. Abby was tempted to engage the MASC to make up the lost time, but she learnt from her first experience that ambition could actually hamper her plan, so she let go of the MASC button and let the _Fire Moth_ run as fast as it could just using the throttle.

The computer beeped as Abby reached the designated Nav Alpha, and Helina's face came up on the screen. "Four minutes 12 seconds. You know why you fail to break the record, quiaff?"

"Aff, Ovkhan. I jumped too fast. I lost 30 seconds just trying to get up."

"Good. However, you are the best in your sibko. I am really impressed, Cadet."

"Am I?" Abby beamed from ear to ear. "How did Hector and Darien do, Ovkhan?"

"Hector fell in the average range, 7 minutes 23 seconds. Darien was a bit faster, 7 minutes 4 seconds."

Abby leaned back in her couch, closing her eyes as the feeling started to overwhelm her. _The best in the sibko_. Finally, there was something worthy of taking pride of. It was the best day of her life since she started her training. It was just the first training out of maybe a hundred more, but Abby was determined to continue her dominance.

"I am ready, Ovkhan."

"Alright, I have plotted several more Nav points over the field. Hit those Nav points, see if you can engage that MASC without falling down. After you are comfortable with moving fast in one direction, you will do evasive maneuvers. And then, we can talk about shooting."


	7. Chapter 6

**Chapter VI**

**Author's Note**: Mark, Boren, Timothy, and Michael Lorin belong to **Ulquiorra9000**. All rights reserved.

"All the great things are simple, and many can be expressed in a single word: freedom, justice, honor, duty, mercy, hope."

_~ Winston Churchill_

* * *

><p><em><strong>Butte Hold Orbit, Greater Valkyrate,<br>July 26, 3049**_

"_Tomahawk_ inbound! Watch your six!"

Marissa slammed her joystick to the left, just before twin laser bolts struck the void where she was a moment ago. Her _Spad_ made a furious left turn, snaking between murderous laser bolts from two _Tomahawk_ aerofighters, as she held her breath. The shots were getting closer and closer, and Marissa had to use every single trick she had to dodge their shots.

"These guys are veterans!" she panted on her comset. "I can't shake them off! Seth, where are you?"

"I'm running low on afterburner!" Seth replied briskly. He himself was trying to run away from another _Tomahawk_ that had been latching on to him since the beginning of the engagement. "I have my hands tied, Marissa!"

"Damn it! Damn it! Damn it all to hell!" Marissa grimaced. A series of medium lasers peppered her tail, and one burnt a slab of armor. She heard the warning, and she acknowledged the fact that her rear armor was almost nonexistent. One more medium laser shot could disable her _Spad_, or worse, destroyed it completely. And there were two hungry _Tomahawks_ locking on her, waiting and wanting it to happen.

Marissa made a mental note to kill the pirate's tactical officer if she ever got out of this predicament. Early on, the pirate ship intercepted a communication between some local Butte Hold communities with an outside convoy. Where exactly the screw-up happened, nobody could tell, but the pirate thought that it was a lightly-guarded supply convoy. Everybody expected to see a big payday with minimal effort. But when Marissa took her squadron to intercept it, it was anything but an easy prey. The convoy consisted of 3 ST-46 with two wings of veteran Free Worlds _Tomahawk_ aerofighters as their escort. The pirates fought their heart and soul to destroy the escort, but it was fairly obvious that the _Tomahawk_ pilots were front-line warriors. They wiped out half of Marissa's squadron within the first 5 minutes of the engagement, and the remaining pirates were lucky to be alive so far.

"_Thach Weave!_ Turn hard right and find me!" suddenly Seth found an idea. "I'll shoot your _Tomahawks_, you shoot mine!"

Seth's plan sounded iffy, but Marissa didn't have time to second-guess anything. She yanked her joystick hard to the right. Her _Spad_ rolled half a turn, and the _Tomahawks_ mimicked her maneuver, still firing their lasers at her. Marissa engaged her afterburner, forcing her _Spad_ to turn even tighter. Her radar picked up two other fighters on her right flank. The closest one was Seth, mirroring her maneuver, while the other one was another _Tomahawk_ trying to get a clear shot at Seth's engine. Soon enough, she was head to head with Seth, and with a quick flick she flinched, letting Seth pass a mere centimeter from her aerofighter. As Seth passed, she had a clear shot at the _Tomahawk_ that had been chasing Seth since the beginning of the fight.

"Eat this, Free World freak!" Marissa howled and hit her alpha strike button. Her PPC slammed onto the _Tomahawk_'s fuselage, carving a bad gash. Her lasers came a second later, drilling the wound deeper into the engine. Fire belched from under the wing, and the _Tomahawk_ spun out of control, forcing its pilot to eject.

Meanwhile, Seth went face to face with two _Tomahawks_ aiming their guns at Marissa's rear flank. He poured his firepower at one of the _Tomahawks_, breaching its wing with a surgical PPC shot. The _Tomahawk_ veered off course and cartwheeled into deep space, while its wingman chose to break contact and regroup with the remaining _Tomahawk_.

"Holy Mother - shit - sonofa - ass!" Marissa panted on her cockpit. "Seth, you're a genius!"

"It's not my idea, Marissa," Seth chuckled as his _Spad_ formed up on Marissa's. "A guy named Jimmy Thach invented it more than a millenium ago. That's why it's called the _Thach Weave_."

"Show off!" Marissa replied under her breath. "So what now? We still have 2 _Tomahawks_ to deal with." She stole a glance at the three ST-46 shuttles that were preparing atmospheric entry. "If we lose those shuttlecrafts, all of these will be for nothing."

"Let's split," Seth suggested. "I'll handle the _Tomahawks_. You deal with the shuttles."

"I'm not leaving you alone with those Free Worlds bastards!"

"Fine. Then let's take on the _Tomahawks_. But like you said, it will be for nothing."

Marissa wished there were an easy way to do it. Seth was good, really good, but there was no way he could handle the two veteran _Tomahawks_. He needed her, and she needed him. But beating the _Tomahawks_ bore only little value for the pirates. The ST-46 crafts might carry wealth beyond her imagination. They were the price of beating the _Tomahawks_. After everything she sacrificed, it would make no sense to just let them go.

"Fine! We'll do it your way!" Marissa conceded. She broke off formation, turning toward the three shuttlecrafts, while Seth continued to chase the remaining two _Tomahawks_. "Be careful, and don't try to be a hero. I don't want to lose you."

"Likewise, Princess," Seth replied, then engaged his afterburner.

Marissa pushed her throttle to maximum, bringing her _Spad_ dashing full speed at the three ST-46 shuttlecrafts. The shuttles tried evasive maneuvers, but they knew it was for vain. Soon Marissa came within 500 meters from the shuttle convoy and, lining up her PPC with the middle ST-46, she hailed the convoy.

"This is Marissa Valentin. By this time you should have known my reputation. Your escorts have been eliminated. You have 2 minutes to turn off your engines and surrender your transports to me. If my demand is not met, I will destroy your ships and give you no quarters. Consider your situation wisely before you decide something."

"Don't shoot," somebody from the other end replied. "My name is Proctor Mark Lorin. There are children on board. We don't have anything of value except me. Take me, and let the children go."

_Children on board. Children on board_. Suddenly Marissa was taken back 16 years where she saw her father the last time before he was robbed from her life. Her hand shook, and she let go of her trigger, thinking what evil she could've done if she didn't establish communication link before started shooting blindly. Her breaths turned ragged, and it took her a while to compose herself.

"Mark Lorin," she said with trembling voice. "Do you have children?"

"Boren and Timothy are with me now. Michael is at home in Free Worlds since he's just 1 year old."

Marissa closed her eyes, sobbing, soaking her jumpsuit with her tears. She was one click away from doing the same thing that the pirate leader did to her. She almost became the very thing she hated the most, and for that, she thought she could grab her gun and blow her brain out right there, right then. Anger, shame, fear, all blended into a maelstrom of emotion that paralyzed her for several minutes. She just sat there doing nothing.

"Miss Valentin?" Mark Lorin's voice boomed. "Are you letting us go?"

"On one condition," Marissa composed herself. "I let you go now. I will wait until you leave this hellhole and return to Free Worlds. You will take me with you to Free Wolds. If you don't agree, or if you try anything, I will destroy your convoy."

"I am the proctor of a military sanctuary deep in Free Worlds space," Mark Lorin responded. "I have full authority to give you an asylum in my realm. But why should I believe the words of a pirate? What guarantee I have that you won't just shoot at us?"

"Because you have no choice," Marissa acted tough, although her sniffeling was audible enough to make Mark Lorin suspicious. "Do it on my term, and you'll live. Cheat, and I'll destroy everything."

"Very well, pirate," Mark Lorin replied. "I will leave Butte Hold system two weeks from now. I will not stop for you. You will have to find me. I will note the escorts to let you pass. We will jump together to Bensinger. A Free World corvette will be waiting for us there. You will have to surrender your aerofighter. But in any way you will be harmed, if you keep your end of the bargain."

"Deal," Marissa forced a smile. "Now go in peace."

"Thank you," Mark Lorin replied. "I will see you around."

The ST-46 continued their path down to Butte Hold. Marissa turned her aerofighter and sped toward Seth, who had been holding on against the two _Tomahawk_ veterans. She sneaked behind one _Tomahawk_ and fired her PPC as soon as she got into range. The _Tomahawk_ rolled to evade her attack, lifting some pressure off Seth's rear flank.

"Seth, disengage the _Tomahawks!_ This is too much! We're pulling out!"

"Did you get the transports?"

"No."

"What?" Seth looped in a train of white smoke, leaving the two _Tomahawks_ behind. "What happened?"

"Maintain radio silence!" Marissa snarled curtly. "Get back to base. We have enough for one day."

But as she expected, Seth couldn't keep quiet. As soon as they left the _Tomahawks_, he reestablished communication line. "You never missed, Marissa. You've been in worse situation than this and you pulled off admirably. Those were just 3 unarmed transports. What really happened there?"

"I struck a deal with them," Marissa explained. "I let them go. In return, they'll take me to Free Worlds."

Seth went quiet for a full minute, then burst into panic. "What the hell are you thinking? How are you going to explain to the leader that you're leaving? How could you trust the Mariks? What if they use you to trap us? And where do you think you can go with a bounty on your head?"

"I don't know, and I don't care," Marissa closed her eyes. "But Seth, this is not the life I want. I'm doing it because I don't have a choice. Now I have a chance to leave it, and I'm taking it."

"Do you think I like my life?" Seth roared. "I was whipped every single day for almost 10 years, until I showed them I could drive an aerofighter the way they couldn't. But I didn't make a deal with random guys. There's too much uncertainty."

"If you hate your life, then come with me," Marissa said gently. "I think there's room for another one."

"Marissa, you're not listening. What if the Mariks lied to you?"

"Then I'll just turn against _Infinite Bound_," Marissa sighed exasperately. "I may destroy it. I may die as a fool. I don't care anymore. I am not living this life more than I need to." She paused for some time, then asked. "So, are you coming with me or not?"

"If the leader finds out about this, it'll be a living hell for us," Seth grumbled. "You've never been there, Marissa. I have, and I don't want to go there anymore."

"Then we will not speak of this again. When the time comes, you just follow my order. Do not talk, do not do anything stupid, just follow me. I will take care of the rest."

"One final question," Seth commented. "Do you seriously want me to come with you?"

Marissa smiled. "Just imagine what we can do together as free men."

"I love you, girl," Seth whispered. "I really do."


	8. Chapter 7

**Chapter VII**

Hark children of the Clans,  
>To the wisdom of Kerensky and your forebears,<br>Know what has come before;  
>Remember it as you strive toward the future<p>

_~ The Remembrance, Passage 1, Verse 1, Lines 1-4_

* * *

><p><em><strong>Tranquil, Kerensky Cluster,<br>**__**July 31, 3049**_

The seasons didn't change much at Tranquil, so it was easy to lose track of time. Abby's sibko had been training there for more than a year now, and the training became harsher, more brutal as time passed. They started with 50 sibkins, and the casualties mounted as the training turned into inhumane tests of endurance; three died during the harsh physical trainings, half a dozen died during firearm exercises, ten died during battlemech live-fire tests, and nearly two dozen sibkins were critically injured (or becoming mentally unstable) and sent directly to the lower castes. There were only nine sibkins left in Abby's sibko.

The mounting pressure to be the best in her sibko almost drove Abby insane, and the extra measures she put on during her free time to ensure she kept her dominance over other sibkins made everything worse. The only _entertainment_ she enjoyed was coupling with other sibkins. But the dwindling number of sibkins made it harder and harder for her to find a suitable mate. She had to venture out of her sibko, but the distraction wasn't worth the satisfaction.

So she was left with Darien and Hector as her most frequent mates. Fortunately for her, the two happened to be her favorite coupling mates among her sibkins. Hector was built like a truck with appetite like a dire wolf. Coupling with Hector was always a game of dominance which would leave her battered and bruised, but thoroughly satisfied. Darien was nowhere as virile but he was a cunning tactician, catching her off guard and wanting for more. And he had the ingenuity (and stamina) to keep it going as long as he liked, until Abby surrendered to her own pleasure.

But even sexual encounters with her favorite partners didn't bring much satisfaction anymore. There were not many left in the sibko, and soon enough Abby had to prove herself against Darien or Hector. She was still the best mechwarrior in her sibko, but not by much. Hector was a clumsy pilot who kept getting blown up in his mech, until he chose the _Adder Prime_ as his mech. He was undefeated since, raking up an impressive 15 kills in just 6 games. And Darien was breathing on her neck with his _Kit Fox B_. He was inching closer to the top spot which Abby had been relentlessly hogging since her first battlemech training.

"You are not yourself," Darien once said as he lied beside Abby, naked and breathing hard, after they wrapped up their hour-long coupling. "You are bugged with many things, and you brought them to our coupling ritual."

Abby scoffed and sat on the bed, wrapping the thin bed sheet around her sweaty body. "It is just sex, Darien. It is not sacred like an honor duel."

"I am concerned," Darien rose from the bed and wrapped his arms around Abby's shoulder. "About a quarter of our sibkins lost their minds because of the harsh training condition or the neurohelmet feedback, and you are trundling in that direction, without you or me being able to stop it." He bent forward, putting Abby's bare foot in his hand and entwined his fingers between her plump toes. "You are my friend. You are the best cadet from our sibko. I hate to lose you."

Abby let out a bitter chuckle. It was nice to hear that Darien genuinely cared about her, but they were both aspiring mechwarriors. In a martial society they lived in, only the strong survived, and there was no place for being sentimental. And if the situation was reversed, it was exactly what she would do. Darien was technically her rival, a threat to her ambition to emerge as Wolf brightest mechwarrior. If Darien were slipping into insanity, she would've stepped aside and watched it happen.

"I find your lack of focus a little disturbing," Abby drew her foot and got up from the bed. "Operation Revival is underway. The Wolf Clan needs high-quality warriors to cement its dominance over other Clans and the Inner Sphere barbarians. The bar will be set higher than ever. You should have concentrated on your training regimen instead of other's well being."

"Operation Revival should not have happened," Darien scoffed. "The Inner Spheroids are crude and primitive, but they are not stupid. They can take care of themselves. And remember, we left the Inner Sphere. We voided our rights for Terra. To come back to claim what is 'rightfully ours' sounds…" he paused to find the right word, but in the end he used the one he dreaded to use, "hypocritical."

"It is not for you to decide, Darien," Abby said as she started putting on her clothes. "We are warriors. We go to the battlefield and glorify the name of Wolf Clan with our blood. Whether it is against the Jade Falcon, the Smoke Jaguars, the Nova Cat, the Ghost Bear, or the Inner Sphere _freebirths_, it should not matter. We are born to serve, so we serve the Wolf Clan until we die."

"Is that how you see your life, Abby?" Darien rose from the bed. "Just… war and death?"

"Is there more?" Abby shot a derogatory smile. "Ask yourself what you are, Darien. Ask why the Wolf Clan made you. You are nothing but an instrument of war. You are forged in the fire of battles to be the ultimate warrior in the universe. Your life is nothing more than bloodshed. The Clan made you to fight and die, and fight and die you will for the glory of the Wolf Clan."

"And are you willing to sacrifice your life for it?"

"Are you not?" Abby gave Darien a strange look, wondering what her coupling mate was trying to say.

Darien puffed a long sigh. "Not without a purpose. We are warriors but first of all we are humans. Do you know what people called warriors that fought to their death for the glory of others? Slaves, Abby. We are not slaves. We are born for a reason, whether it is from primitive procreation like the Inner Sphere _freeborns_, or the Clan's superior eugenic program. There is more in life than just piloting battlemechs for the glory of the Clan."

"And what do you suppose that purpose may be?" Abby jeered.

Darien could only shake his head. "I have not found it yet."

"You see, Darien, you are the brightest in our sibko," Abby said, surprised at her own willingness to acknowledge her shortcoming. "You have a tactical perception rivaling that of a star colonel's or even a galaxy commander's. But you waste it on some stupid soul-searching and degrading yourself to the level of _freebirths_. The Inner Sphere barbarians are poisoned by philosophical nonsense like this; we are not. We are the Clans, and our life is simple. Fight with honor, and die with honor."

"If life is that easy, then what is disturbing you?" Darien returned the barb. "You do not care about life's purposes more than to fight and to die. You do not care about Warden or Crusader philosophies. Then nothing should bother you, quiaff?"

Abby couldn't find the right way to answer Darien's question. The only thing that mattered to her was to enter the warrior's caste as a front-line mechwarrior hungry for greatness, and her greatest obstacle stood right in front of her, with whom she had passionate moments not half an hour ago. And yet he made her nervous.

"Aff, Darien, you are correct," she finally answered him the only way she could. "However, my state of mind in none of your concern. I am as healthy as you can imagine. If you care for me that much, then note that you will not lose me to mental instability, or anything for that matter. I will make it through this training program, and I will graduate as the top mechwarrior of our sibko. You will see."

Darien sighed, again, making her aware that he was not satisfied with her answer, but was willing to let it go for the moment. "If you say so," he nodded in acknowledgment. "Just do not trip chasing your dreams."


	9. Chapter 8

**Chapter VIII**

"If we have to give these bastards our lives, we'll give them hell before we do!"  
><em>~ Captain Mifune, Matrix Revolution<em>

* * *

><p><strong><em>Butte Hold Orbit, Greater Valkyrate,<br>August 9, 3049_**

Pirates, technicians, slaves, everybody occupied the corridors of _Infinite Bound_, running around like chickens looking for their mother hens. Marissa didn't remember if the pirate ship ever this frantic. Something big was happening, and it made her jittery. It was two weeks after her encounter with the Free Worlds convoy, and it was time to claim something she had been waiting for 16 years. She already scheduled for a daily patrol earlier that morning, but the pirate leader ruled it out at the last minute.

Could somebody else know about it? Could Seth betray her? She knew she would find the answer soon, but some part of her didn't want to know. What if it was the Free Worlds convoy? The pirate band would attack it with all guns blazing, and blow her chance to hitchhike the convoy out of the water. And what about those children? But were there actually children on the Free Worlds convoy? What if MarkLorin just made up things to soften her up, then came back with full power?

The answer soon revealed itself when Marissa arrived at the hangar. Seth and a couple pilots from her squadron were talking with the pirate leader, looking at a holographic picture of a strange-looking ship she had never seen before. "It's the Mariks," the pirate leader said. "They're building a secret space ship in the border of Lyran – periphery. This may be a high-tech secret weapon. If we can get our hands on that ship, we will be invincible. I'm sending everybody to get that ship!"

"You have to disable it to own it," Marissa tried to find a reason to keep everybody out. "If you put too many people on it, the damage may be irrepairable. My squadron is highly trained in calculated shots. Let me do it. You just watch from the distance."

"You failed to capture them two weeks ago," the pirate leader grumbled. "I'm not taking that chance again. Go to your post and fight! There's a big payday at the end of the day, so fight hard! I'll see you on the flip side!"

As the pirate leader left, Seth gave Marissa a desperate look, shaking his head faintly. Marissa agreed with her. It was close to impossible to make a run with all pirates swirling around her, armed with loaded guns. But she just had to try. She couldn't let this opportunity slip from her finger, no matter how hard it was to pull off.

"There's still a chance," she whispered as the two other pilots left for their _Spads_. "Follow my lead and do as I say. I will get us out of here."

Seth gave her a nod, but she caught a glimpse of doubt in his eyes. Nevertheless, he went to his _Spad_, and Marissa took a quick glimpse of the frenzied hangar before climbing into her cockpit. The pirate leader was sending every single aerofighter out to attack – and possibly disable, but Marissa didn't put so much hope in it – the Marik unidentified ship. Soon it was Marissa's turn, and her _Spad_ swooshed out of the launching tube, joining dozens other pirate aerofighters in space.

"Form up on me!" Marissa gave her order as she wiggled her way between fighters, putting a bit more throttle to get to the front of the pack. Seth and two other _Spads_ followed her and formed up a diamond formation. The Marik ship was right in front of them, gliding defiantly at space without a hint of changing course. Marissa let out a quick sigh of relief. If the Mariks were this cocky, they might bring a lot of firepower. A pitched battle between the Marik ship and _Infinite Bound_ was inevitable, and it would give her some cover to sneak in.

"Mark Lorin?" she hailed the Marik ship. "This is Marissa Valentin. Can I speak to Mark Lorin?"

Out of sudden, without warning, the ship launched half a dozen missiles straight at _Infinite Bound_. Marissa calculated the distance between the two starships, and there was no way _Infinite Bound_ could strike it back. The Marik ship was still out of range.

"That's impossible," Seth mumbled. "It's still too far."

But the missiles sailed past the aerofighter pack and slammed into _Infinte Bound_. Fire belched at every impact, and the hull bled fire and debris. The pirate ship reeled as it engaged an evasive maneuver, but the missile strike was so devastating it disabled half of the destroyer's engines.

"That's impossible!" Seth stated, half screaming. "It is too far!"

Defying everybody's logic, the Marik ship launched its second wave of missiles. They hit _Infinite Bound_ at the broad side as the ship was turning to flee the area. The warheads cut through the armor like hot knives through butter. Three internal explosions staggered _Infinite Bound,_ then a gigantic fireball breached the ship into two.

Marissa could only watch in awe.

"Dogfighters! Dogfighters inbound!" somebody screamed in the comlink. Marissa inspected her radar and watched in horror as dozens of small red dots sped toward the pirate group with unbelievable speed. She tried to read the signature, but her computer spat out _Unidentified_ right into her face. Marissa had seen the best aerofighters Lyran Commonwealth had to offer, and she never saw any of them moved that fast. The Free Worlds surely developed some technological marvels right under Lyran's nose… if they were actually the Free Worlds.

She began to question if they were actually Free Worlds.

"Mark Lorin, this is Marissa Valentin," she tried again. "Mark Lorin, we had a deal! I need a path to get through your fighters! Mark Lorin, can you read me?"

There was no response for a minute as the unidentified fighters sprinted toward the pirate bunch. Then a burst of static gave her a little hope, until a couple of azzure lightning bolt leapt from the closest fighter. Marissa winced as the bolts whizzed right next to her cockpit and torched the _Spad_ on her rear right. The explosion pushed her _Spad_ to spin out of control. Groaning, she tugged the joystick as hard as she could, fighting for control, only to skid to a safe distance when the rest of the unidentified aerofighters fired similar shots at the pirate _Spads_.

The next minute was a total massacre as half of the pirates, still out of range, erupted into fireballs. They fired azure lightning bolts similar to the _Spad's_ PPC but from far greater distance. The pirates broke formation, trying to set up a sizeable counter attack but lasers and missiles quickly overwhelmed them.

Marissa sneaked behind an unidentified aerofighter and fired her PPC at its twin exhausts. It was a calculated shot, and she expected to see fireworks, but the fighter barrel-rolled at the nick of time and her PPC bolt struck void, leaving her dumbfounded. The foreign fighter was visibly twice the size of her _Spad_ but it moved much quicker than hers. It executed a half loop with the grace of a 20-ton fighter, then latched on to Marissa's _Spad_.

"I'm locked! I'm locked! Seth, where are you?" Marissa punched her afterburner. She yanked her joystick erratically, swinging her _Spad_ left and right in a futile attempt to shake off the unidentified fighter.

"These guys are no human!" Seth yelled his response. "I'm losing my stabilizer! Where's your deal, Marissa? Get it up or we're all gonna die here!"

But Marissa didn't believe they had anything to do with Mark Lorin anymore. These guys were so fast, so ruthless, with technological advantage far beyond anything she had ever seen, that Seth's panic message started to make sense: they were not humans. And it was aptly so, considering they were at the border of charted territories. Who knows some alien race decided to enslave humanity?

"To the planet surface! Dive! Dive! Dive!" Marissa pushed her joystick hard, bringing her _Spad_ to turn toward Butte Hold. She hit her afterburner, bringing her _Spad_ to full speed as she pierced Butte Hold atmosphere. She knew she was coming in too fast, so when her nose began to glow, she let go of her throttle and deployed all air breaks. The _Spad_ jarred and creaked in sickening screech, and Marissa, in an earnest pray, wished for a miracle as she hung on to her joystick. Her fighter began to disintegrate, starting from the air breaks, down to her armor, and to her electronics.

But just as ferro-aluminum frames started flying off her _Spad_, she leveled off. Sweat ran down her cheeks like creeks, and her eyes were heavy with tears, but she survived the savage atmospheric entry. The terracotta soil of Butte Hold spread in front of her as far as her eyes could see, giving her a momentary peace.

"Seth? Seth, where are you? Come in, Seth," she called for her boyfriend.

Seth's _Spad_ burst from the cloud, smoking, limping, but otherwise fine. Marissa took a deep breath as he formed up on her rear left. "I think we lost them," Seth said with trembling voice. "I know there's a clearance not far from here. We can land and hide our aircraft…"

Seth's sentence was cut short by a vicious proximity alert, and Marissa's heart stopped beating as she saw the unidentified fighter, as clean as if it just rolled out of the factory, burst out of the cloud with its wings flashing furiously. Seth's _Spad_ disintegrated in a wrathful explosion.

"Oh God, no!" Marissa cried out, but she didn't time to lament the loss. The enemy fighter shot its missiles. Marissa engaged a tight barrel roll, but three missiles nailed her tail fin. With almost no armor left on her _Spad_, the hit was fatal. Her aerofighter spun out of control, and there was only one thing she could do. She pulled the ejection lever, and her command couch burst out of the canopy, then hung leisurely on three parachutes down to Butte Hold ground.

It took her almost 5 minutes to land on Butte Hold soil, and the enemy aircraft flew past her, then gracefully made a turn to land on a small clearing. The paint was still fresh, as if the atmospheric entry didn't do anything to it, and Marissa could see the painting of a wolf's head on top of five stars right under the cockpit. It was nothing like she had ever seen before.

The canopy slid open, and the pilot – humanoid, with small stature – climbed down. He stripped his helmet, revealing a disproportionally large head on top of his wiry body, with large blue eyes and strawberry blonde hair. He held some kind of electrical whip that crackled on his left hand everytime he moved it.

"My name is Star Commander Benten of the Wolf," the wiry man said. "I hereby take you as my bondswoman. You know serve the Wolf Clan under my supervision… _freebirth_!"

It was the last thing Marissa remembered, right before the wiry man swung his crackling electrical whip at her face.


	10. Chapter 9

**Chapter VIII**

Life hurts a lot more than death  
><em>~ Jim Morrison<em>

* * *

><p><strong><em>CW <em>****Blood Drinker_,  
><em>****_Wolf Clan _****Black Lion_-Class Heavy Cruiser,  
><em>****_Butte Hold Orbit, Greater Valkyrate,  
><em>****_September 15, 3049_**

Nobody had heard about the Clans before. Little to none was known about their origin. They were humans, thankfully, but they bore no resemblance to anything Marissa had known before. Some were huge, twice as tall and three times as bulky as Marissa. Others were small, with large head and large eyes and tiny, wiry body. And then there were anything in between. They called themselves the Wolf Clan. They spoke in a different dialect than normal English, and although Marissa could capture most of the words, it was their epithets that completely threw her off guard.

At first Marissa thought that she was captured by a military occultism. Slowly, painfully, she learnt that these people were descendants from Alexander Kerensky's Exodus fleet that left the Inner Sphere some 300 years ago. They settled down in an uncharted territory, morphed into a society of militants they called the Clans, and perfected their physiques to tackle one specific task. The huge men were their infantries. Their muscles were necessary to carry their mechanized armors and complicated weapon systems. The small ones were the aerojocks. Their large eyes could see far beyond normal eyesight, and their large head contained a lot of blood so they could sustain inhuman G-force. That explained the impossible maneuvers they pulled off during their fight. And then, there were the mechwarriors, the majority of their warriors who didn't seem to 'mutate' like their infantry and aerospace comrades.

The one that shot Marissa down called himself Star Commander Benten. He was a typical aerofighter pilot: small in stature, with a far too large head for his delicate body, and a couple of wide eyes that made him look like the 'little green man' from some old TV show. But behind his awkward appearance lied a demented soul that made Marissa's life a living hell. He harassed her, degraded her lower than a _surat -_ the bat-monkey crossover that Clan folks took as pets - and forced her to satisfy his illicit, grossly deviant sexual fantasy.

Marissa decided it was enough.

"Get up, you genetic trash," Benten said one day, circling inside Marissa's cell. "Strip your clothes. You do not deserve even the worst of our rag."

Standing in the middle of her small cell, slowly Marissa pulled her t-shirt up, then pushed her slacks down into a puddle of cloth. She stepped out of her slacks, leaving her only with undergarment and a pair of flip flops. Benten's eyes widened as he inspected every inch of Marissa's taut body, paying special attention to her oversized breasts. He smacked his lips lightly as his eyes descended to her feet, humming a cheerful tune. Somewhere between Marissa's plump toes, her faded pink toenail paint, and her toerings excited him more than anything, and his body stiffened as he marveled her feet.

It was when Marissa launched her attack. She lunged and slammed her shoulder on Benten's face. Benten was caught off guard. His large head jerked, hitting the cell door behind him in a loud thud. His awkward body spasmed as his head flung back forward. His knees wobbled, and a second later he crashed to the cell floor.

As Benten struggled to get up, Marissa grabbed her t-shirt and wrapped it around his neck. The Clan aerojock gurgled and wheezed as the shirt dug into his throat. He swung his arm and elbowed Marissa on the ribcage, but his strike was weak. Marissa barely flinched, then tightened her grips on the shirt. Benten squirmed more violently, and with the amount of blood stored in his head, he put up a good struggle long after normal humans already fainted. But Marissa pulled the shirt as hard as she could. Benten's fight grew dimmer and dimmer, and sure enough his breaths came in exasperating, agonizing gasps.

But just when Marissa thought Benten expired, the cell door slid open. A giant man entered and grabbed Marissa's neck from behind. He was excessively large and bulky, but he moved in such speed and grace that Marissa didn't have time to react. The next time she knew, she was clawing the giant's arm, fighting for her own air, while Benten lied leisurely on the floor, trying to get his composure back.

"Do you need help controlling your _bondswoman_, Ovkhan?" the giant spoke.

"Neg," Benten rose slowly. Her large eyes spilled hatred at Marissa like a flood. "We are not like her kind. Let her breathe and take her to the mess hall. I will teach her the way of the Clan!"

The giant man released her neck and pulled her arms behind her back. He dragged her through the cell corridor, letting the other prisoners watch her, until he reached the end of the hall. He burst out of the double door and through a series of turns until they reached the mess hall. Benten followed him two steps behind.

The mess hall was full with people from all phenotypes, and Marissa knew Benten was going to make an example of her. She cursed her stupid oversight. She was bigger and stronger than Benten. There was no way Benten would go into her cell alone. He must have had a backup, and what better complemented his weak and wiry stature than a giant man with muscles like battlemech's myomer bundles? She should've known it better.

"This _savashri_ attacked me, Star Commander Benten of the Wolf, without warning and at my utter disadvantage," Benten stated loudly as the giant man situated her in the middle of the room. "Yet she failed to kill me. I challenge her, _bondsmwoman _Marissa the _freebirth, _in a Circle of Equal. This is between me and my _bondswoman_, so let no one interfere!"

The people in the mess hall immediately got up from their seats and formed a large circle encompassing Marissa and Benten. The aerospace jock screamed something unintelligibly, then somebody throw him a long black whip with multiple thongs at the edge. He thumbed a button in the hilt, and the black whip glowed in pink charge, crackling as he whisked it as a display of superiority.

"Somebody throw her a weapon!" Benten croaked hastily. "You see, _freebirth_, we are not like you, striking without warning to gain an early advantage. This is the Circle of Equals, and even if you do not deserve to be treated as our equal, we do it anyway. That is the way of the Clan!"

Marissa's face reddened with shame.

Somebody threw a dagger into the Circle of Equal, right in front of Marissa. It was not hard to figure out that these people expected to see a bloodbath, and it made her nervous. She remembered Benten's whip, and she knew it had power to knock her out. Although Marissa herself was proficient in dagger play, Benten had a significant range advantage.

However Marissa didn't see any other way to escape it, so she bent down to grab the dagger. Just when her fingers grazed the hilt of the dagger, Benten flashed his whip. The multi-thonged whip wrapped around Marissa's wrist, and the charge gave her a jolt. It felt like a thousand razor blades clawing her hand. Marissa screamed, hard, and fell on her back. Benten mercifully pulled his whip, and Marissa rolled on the floor, holding her right arm. Her right wrist throbbed in burning fire, and there was a red welt where Benten's whip touched her skin.

"This is called an electro-lash," Benten chuckled. "The laborer caste uses it to drive cattles. We, the warrior caste, use it to discipline _freebirths_ like you. It will not kill you, but it will burn a mark in your body – and most importantly, your mind – to give your utmost respect for the Wolf Clan! Now get up and fight, you filth! Let us see if you can actually win an honor duel!"

Marissa pulled herself together and lunged as fast as she could toward the dagger, but Benten swung it again. The tip of the thongs scratched Marissa's cheek, leaving deep burnt marks. Marissa yelped as she covered her face with her palms. Benten whipped his electro-lash, grabbing Marissa's left ankle, then pulled it as hard as he could. Marissa wailed as she fall face forward, her left leg suspended in the air by the crackling whip. Her toes curled from extreme pain. This time, Benten kept it up for some time, and only when Marissa's voice had turned sore did he release her.

That last attack burnt not only a deep, blood-red ridge on Marissa's ankle, but also a terrible image in her mind. The frail aerofighter had turned into a bloodlusty monster with electric tentacles crushing her from every direction. She stole a quick glance at him, and she wondered how such a decrepit-looking man possessed so much power over her.

"Now you have witnessed the mighty claws of the Wolf Clan, barbarian," Benten growled. "Now is the time of the Clans! We will take the Inner Sphere planet by planet until we reach Terra. You are just a genetic filth. You will stand no chance against us!"

Marissa gave one more defiant act by standing up, but Benten flicked his electro-lash and wrapped the thongs around her neck. She felt her head explode. She crumpled like meat without bones to support it, wheezing and crying at the mercy of her _bondholder_. And somewhere between the electro-lash crushing her neck and Benten's declaration of victory, she saw Seth, swimming in the sea of flame. Boy, was he the lucky one…

"You are mine, _freebirth_," Benten cemented his victory by standing over her. He crouched and grabbed Marissa's hair, forcing her to look into his eyes. "For every mistake I find in your life, I will punish you with this. Every time you say 'no' to me, I will break you in the Circle of Equals. And if you try to outsmart me ever again, I will destroy you until you beg for me to kill you. And do not think death will be your easy escape either. I will make it my business that you live a long life as my _bondswoman_. Do you understand?"

"Yes," Marissa managed to squeeze out a barely audible answer.

"Call me with my proper name! Yes, Ovkhan!"

"Yes, Ovkhan," she wheezed.

"Good. Now," he trailed his fingers along the arches of her shuddering feet. "We are kind of interrupted by this honor duel, quiaff?"

Marissa could only bit her lips as tears streaming down her cheeks.


	11. Chapter 10

**Chapter X**

Bloody vengeance would be Eden's fate,  
>The heart of darkness,<br>Doomed to wait,  
>For the Sons of Kerensky,<br>Grim and merciless.

_~The Remembrance, Passage 26, Verse 2, Lines 4-8c_

* * *

><p><strong><em>Battlemech Training Ground,<br>_****_Tranquil, Kerensky Cluster,  
><em>****_February 4, 3050_**

Abby still vividly remembered the first time she stepped into a battlemech a year ago. The neurohelmet felt like crushing her head, turning her stomach upside down. It took a lot of her to take control of the battlemech. That day had long gone, but even though she operated her battlemech like it was her own body, that first day was never forgotten. It reminded her of how much she had to sacrifice and how much more she had to give to achieve her ultimate goal.

"Attention, cadets!" the voice of the fight instructor boomed from the PA as Abby went through the startup sequence of her battlemech. "This is a live-fire exercise. You will engage a full star of enemy battlemechs in the classic Capture The Flag game. Your objective is to occupy the other team's fortress and capture their flag, or destroy the other team entirely. Once again, this is a live-fire exercise. If your battlemech explode, you will die!

"Red Team, your Star Commander of the day is Cadet Dirk. Cadet Gwen, Abdul, Rayne, and Dagoo will be your star mates. Blue Team, Cadet Abby will be your Star Commander. The rest of the star is Cadet Darien, Santo, Hector, and Ira. This is not just a simulation of the real battle, cadets. This _is_ a real battle! Exercise your caution, trust your instinct, and follow your commander. You are Wolves, cadets! Show me that you are worthy bearing Wolf name on your chest!

"The game starts now!"

"Blue Team, this is Blue One," Abby hailed her starmates. "Fall in and report status."  
>"Blue Two ready," Darien responded from his<em> Kit Fox B<em>.  
>"Blue Three all system go," Hector followed suit in his <em>Adder Prime<em>.  
>"Blue Four, at the ready," Santo, a sibkin Abby rarely talked to, replied from his <em>Fire Moth Prime.<br>_"This is Blue Five. All stats are on the green," Ira's _Arctic Cheetah D_ parked next to her.

"Split the star," Abby laid out her plan. "Two and Four, take the edge of the training field and flank them. Three and Five, you are coming with me. We will take Dirk's star head on."

"If I may say a word, Blue One," Darien said, "if you are splitting me from the main unit, might as well task me to take their flag. We can win this game without unnecessary bloodshed."

Abby knew Darien's words held the truth. All they needed to win was to take possession of the red flag. It was quick, simple, and painless for everybody. However, it would need an ingenious strategy, and that was Darien's forte. No, Abby was eager to expose herself to the Wolf top brass and unit commanders. Winning the game by wiping out Dirk's star would propel her reputation, and she wanted that glory.

"Neg, Two. Proceed as planned."

"Aff," Darien replied shortly, then galloped toward the edge of the training field with the _Arctic Cheetah_ two steps behind. Abby throttled up and led the rest of her starmates to the center of the training field. It took her only a little over a minute to find Dirk's star, lunging full speed at her direction. Her lips curled into a smile. Dirk didn't exercise advanced strategy either; he just took his star to kill everything in sight. It would make her job easier.

"Blue Team, fire at will!" Abby commanded, then lunged at the _Wolfhound IIC_ at the center, undoubtedly Cadet Dirk. Hector and Ira quickly picked their targets at long range, and their weapons gave them early advantage. A _Fire Moth D_ and a _Kit Fox A_ stood idly outside the engagement area when Darien and Santo came down hard on them, firing from their left flank. Abby's two-pronged attack seemed to give her an early advantage.

The _Wolfhound IIC_ steadied itself before lighting up the training ground with its pulse lasers, but Abby veered to the right and attacked Dirk at a 45-degree angle. Dirk's bolts burnt a slab of ferro-fibrous armor, creating a stream of molten slag on her rear torso. The neurohelmet feedback signal still made her queasy, but Abby mustered all energy to stay in the battle.

Dirk continued his assault, showering Abby with brilliant laser strands, but soon the heat caught up with his fire. Abby waited until the _Wolfhound IIC_ turned sluggish, then sent her missiles at Dirk's broad center. Dirk flinched, but his _Wolfhound IIC_ moved in slow motion, and the swarm exploded in Dirk's torso. The lanky battlemech thrashed violently. Abby added her medium lasers to the mixture, and the _Wolfhound IIC_ armor plate turned bright red.

Abby was pleased but her triumphant smile was short-lived. Dirk dumped half of his coolant tank to force cooling, then came back with a vengeance. His large laser went miserably wide, but his medium strands stabbed Abby on the side. Globules of superheated metal dripped from the left torso, and greenish steam wafted from a gash on the front armor. Acrid smoke seeped into the cockpit, making her stomach churn.

Screaming her frustration, Abby slammed both feet on the pedal, bringing her mech to a complete halt. She pivoted and yanked the throttle back up. Her missiles arced gracefully in the air. Dirk sidestepped the attack, but Abby never meant to hit him with her missiles. When Dirk twisted back, she jabbed the _Wolfhound IIC_ with her laser, squarely on the center torso just below the neck. Dirk shrugged off the assault, but Abby hit him again with her second laser strike, right at the same spot. Beads of molten armor gushed from the crater, and Abby could see titanium beams between charred armor plates on Dirk's chest.

But cockiness made Abby sloppy. Dirk fired all weapons in a desperate move. His large pulse beam tore a nasty gap on Abby's left shoulder, and his mediums gnawed at the bearing. The socket melted into dripping smelter, and the left arm came crashing down, taking away the two medium lasers with it.

"_Stravag_!" Abby yelled between screeches of warning and alarm. Dirk just took out half of her firepower, and now her early advantage was gone. She realized if she lost to Dirk, her dream would evaporate, and she would never regain her lead over Hector and Darien. The stake was too high, and she could not lose. The problem was Dirk outweighed her by 10 tons, and his weapons were all firing at her.

So Abby decided to shed some honor and fired her small laser at the head of the _Wolfhound IIC_. The strike was not strong enough to breach the cockpit, but it stunned Dirk. As Dirk trying to compose himself, Abby took a hard lock on the armor breach at the base of the _Wolfhound IIC_ neck. Her missiles came out flying in white smoke; all blasted the _Wolfhound_'s collarbone. Rapid explosions cored the structure, shredding titanium frames, nearly decapitating the _Wolfhound_. The lanky mech contorted in a wild twist, then tumbled in a thunderous crash. Its reactor grew cold, a sure sign that it wouldn't get up anytime soon.

Standing over Dirk's disabled _Wolfhound IIC_, Abby inspected the battlefield. Hector and Darien held their own against a _Fire Moth B_ and a _Kit Fox A_. Santo and Ira, however, were overwhelmed by Dirk's starmates. Santo's _Fire Moth Prime_ was nothing more than a mutilated truss structure, with all myomer bundles burning and hanging free from their titanium skeletons. Ira's _Arctic Cheetah_ was in better shape but all weapons were gone. The 30-ton missile boat barely hung in there with the enemy's _Mist Lynx C_ looming for the kill blow.

Abby saw an opportunity to add kill score to her record. She let the enemy _Wolfhound IIC_ torch Santo's _Fire Moth_, turning it into a scorching wreck, then positioned herself behind her burning starmate. Immediately after the _Fire Moth_ crumbled, Abby let loose her missiles straight at the _Wolfhound IIC_ center. The Inner Sphere-refit battlemech, weakened by the duel with Santo, jerked several meters back. Fire bled from a nasty slash on its center torso. Abby's small laser cored the gash, and the _Wolfhound_ blasted, spraying burning debris all over the training field.

With two kills under her belt, Abby set her eyes on the _Mist Lynx C_ harassing her starmate. An unfortunate laser beam struck Ira's _Arctic Cheetah_ in the gut. It singed the gyro, and Ira went down as if his mech turned into a paper doll. Abby made a wild turn, positioning herself directly in front of the enemy _Mist Lynx_. The _Mist Lynx C_, severely overheated, could only watch as Abby pumped out everything she had. Her missiles enveloped the C variant in a murderous swarm, and the 25-ton omnimech roared in a brilliant fireball.

Barring a bizarre twist of event, Abby didn't expect to see Hector and Darien fall against their opponents, so she took her omnimech to Dirk's fallen _Wolfhound_. As she reached Dirk's disabled mech, she heard Hector singing his war chant, and she could only assume that her starmate had just beat his opponent. Darien reported less than a minute later, confirming that the other _Kit Fox_ had been reduced to a charred hulk.

"This is Cadet Abby of the Blue Team," Abby declared victory. "The Red Team had been destroyed. I have won the game."

"Shut down and exit your battlemech, Cadet," the instructor replied with a flat tone. "Proceed to the hangar for debriefing."

Abby climbed down her _Mist Lynx_ and walked toward the hangar while salvage trucks and ambulance sped toward the mech wrecks. A shuttle stopped right next to her, and her teammates offered her a hand to hop on. Their faces were gleaming with satisfaction.

"Great show of tactical expertise, Abby!" Darien was the first to congratulate her. "Your decision to split us up took them by surprise."

"And you added two more kills besides Cadet Dirk," Hector wrapped his arm around her shoulder. "You are on fire today!"

"Team work, _trothkins_, team work," Abby tried not to sound too smug, but her ear-to-ear grin gave up everything. "I could not have done it without you."

However, when the shuttle arrived at the hangar, Abby saw the instructor had an intense conversation with Cadet Dirk. His body language suggested that he was on the brink of losing his mind. Abby immediately knew what they were talking about, and she prepared to defend herself as she followed Hector and Darien to regroup with the instructor.

"There has been an accusation of dishonorable conduct made by the Blue Team," the instructor said as Abby arrived. "Cadet Dirk claimed that he was taken down by an illegal shot."

"Only Inner Sphere _freebirth_ cries foul play when lost," Hector snorted, shooting a derogatory smirk at Dirk. "Why can you not take it like a Wolf _trueborn_, Dirk? At least Wolf brass would value your gallantry."

"Watch your tongue, _surat_!" Dirk, a man with rugged proportion, replied curtly. "I will crack your skull in the Circle of Equals, but today my fight is not with you." He switched to Abby with vengeful stare. "You cheating _freebirth_! You hit me with a cheap shot, then killed my men! You are a disgrace to Wolf touman!"

"That is a baseless accusation rooted from your shame, Dirk!" Abby yelled back. "Do I need to remind you that we were in a life-and-death duel? I shot you center mass, you moved but not fast enough, and I hit you on the head instead. Are you a damn sore loser that you nitpick every single maneuver I made and make a scene out of it?"

"Abby is right, Dirk," Darien came to Abby's aid. "It was not a calculated shot, but a mere accident. Just shrug it off and take it like a man. You will get another shot at glory."

"Do not interfere, _savashri_!" Dirk roared, his hands balled into tight fists as he launched his fury at Darien. He switched to the instructor, "Play the battleROMs! You will see that Cadet Abby intentionally put her crosshair on my cockpit and defied _zellbrigen_!"

"There will be an investigation," the instructor replied calmly. "Now return to to your quarter and sleep it off."

But Dirk was consumed by rage. "It has to be done today! I challenge you, Cadet Abby of the Wolf, to an honor duel! Meet me outside in the Circle of Equals! Defend your honor!"

"_Freebirth!_ There is no honor in this nonsense!" Hector yelled and walked at Dirk in a provocative gesture. "Beating a woman will not give you honor! You want honor, Dirk? Do it with me! I will step into your Circle of Equals!"

"No, Hector! He challenged me. You cannot interfere," Abby stepped out. Hector had been in the Circle of Equals with Elementals, and he was strong enough to beat half of them. Dirk would stand no chance. But people would regard her as a weakling who hid behind her strong friend. She could not allow it to happen. "This is my fight. I am doing it, not you."

"Fear not, _surat_," Dirk flashed a sadistic grin at Hector. "After I am done with your _coffin mate_, I will come to you. I will drink your blood. All of you!"


	12. Chapter 11

**Chapter XI**

How far that little candle throws his beams!  
>So shines a good deed in a weary world!<p>

_~ Willy Wonka and The Chocolate Factory_

* * *

><p><strong><em>Battlemech Training Ground,<br>_****_Tranquil, Kerensky Cluster,  
><em>****_February 4, 3050_**

A bondsman was bound to his bondholder by honor. As the bondsman was responsible to learn about the culture of his capturing Clan, the bondholder was responsible to teach his bondsman. Some Clans allowed the bondsmen to enter their caste system, so it was the bondholder's job to prepare the bondsman to enter whatever caste of his choice. That was what Marissa learnt about her status as a bondswoman of a Wolf Clan warrior.

Star Commander Benten never did such chivalry. Marissa had been living aboard a Clan warship for half a year, but she didn't know anything about Clan culture aside from her relationship with Benten. Acess to other bondsmen was made scarce so she couldn't educate herself. He cut her off from things she was accustomed to, and exposed her to Clan rituals without explanation, throwing insults and derogatory monikers at her heritage.

Many nights, whenever Marissa felt so lonely and cold, she would look at the stars for a long time. She missed Seth, badly. She missed his touch, she missed his kiss, and she missed his sweet caress. Some nights the feeling was so overwhelming she cried until her eyes dried up. She remembered the scars on Seth's body, and she remembered him saying that she had never been in hell. She wondered if it was still true.

But things started to change since they landed on Tranquil, a world in deep periphery which the Clanners called Kerensky Cluster. Life was more flagrant here; cadets ran around the field with their instructors screaming insults at every possibility. Marissa had never seen Clan cadets before, and seeing _trueborns_ getting slapped left and right didn't make her feel lonely anymore. She was not alone at the bottom of the pecking order, and for the first time in months, Marissa could squeeze a smile or two.

However, life in Tranquil was far more violent than aboard the ship. Death and crippling injuries happened everyday. The Circle of Equals was a scarcity onboard the warship. It happened only twice, and Marissa was in it half of the time. Here in Tranquil, it was a daily routine, and everytime two warriors stepped into the circle, at least one of them exited in a bloody mess. It was a new level of savagery Marissa had never seen before even during her tenure with the pirate band, and it made her wonder who the real 'barbarians' were.

And it just happened that, when she was walking down the Battlemech Training Ground, she heard a cacophony from inside the building. A Clan mechwarrior burst out, still wearing his coolant vest, clearly pissed off at something. Another mechwarrior, a woman of equal stature, followed suit. Then a dozen other warriors spilled into the field, forming the Circle of Equals, while the first male and female mechwarriors stood inside the circle, staring down at each other while stripping their coolant vests for better movement.

Marissa had seen many no-holds-barred knuckle fights between two Clan warriors, and she was not interested in watching another, but apparently the Circle of Equals had holes. So a few Clan mechwarriors hailed her, "Hey, Bondswoman! Fill in the gap!" Marissa hesitated, prompting the Clanners to yell even louder, "Move it, _freebirth_!" Reluctantly she filled in the gap between another mechwarrior and a technician.

"Who are fighting?" Marissa asked unenthusiastically as the two mechwarriors circled each other, looking for a hole in the other's defense.  
>"What do you care, <em>freebirth<em>?" a mechwarrior snapped at her. He was large, almost a full foot taller and a whole lot bulkier than Marissa. If he didn't wear a cooling vest, she would have assumed that he was an Elemental.

"Come on, Hector, give her a break," the mechwarrior right next to her retorted. "We summoned her here, so we owe her some courtesy of acquaintance."

"I never owe a _freebirth_ anything, Darien," the large mechwarrior called Hector grumbled. "Fill her in yourself!"

The mechwarrior called Darien sighed, then turned to face her. "The girl, Abby, is the best cadet from Kerensky-Tchernovkov sibko. She is our sibkin. The guy is Dirk, the best cadet from Carns-Raddick sibko. We just finished a live-fire exercise, and Kerensky-Tchernovkov beat Carns-Raddick sibko, but Dirk accused Abby of dishonorable tactics. He challenged Abby in a Circle of Equals."

It was the first time somebody didn't throw an insult at Marissa, and she was mesmerized. The fight had already started, and the Circle of Equals went livid by screams and yells of supports, but Marissa didn't pay attention. She just sank herself in the warm feeling of being treated as a human, something she had forgotten and thought she would never feel again.

Meanwhile, Abby and Dirk traded brutal shots one after another. A straight punch from Dirk had opened a bad gash right above Abby's right eye. Blood poured into her eye, obscuring her vision. But Abby's left eye was good enough to parry Dirk's subsequent attacks, and bust his ribs with a roundhouse kick of her own. The thud reverberated throughout the field, and Dirk staggered backward, keeling over to cope with the pain.

"Is this really necessary?" Marissa plucked up the courage to strike a conversation with Darien when the combatants paused to catch a breath. "I mean, if there was a dishonorable tactic, there should be an investigation, right? Why do you have to take it to a death fight?"

Darien's eyes bugged out for what seemed like a minute, then showered her with annoyance. "Of course there will be an investigation, but this is the Circle of Equals. You do not walk away from the Circle of Equals. This is the way of the Clan!" He turned his head to watch Abby-Dirk continued brawl, then he turned to her again. He caught a glimpse of her bondcord, and his stare turned bitter. "Who are you? How come you do not know about this? Who is your bondholder?"

Marissa stammered, and her face turned red of embarrassment. "I uh… My name is Marissa Valentin. My bondholder is Star Commander Benten from the Bronze Keshik, Gamma Galaxy."

"Did he not educate you about our way of life?"

Marissa could laugh uproariously at that comment. All Benten did was to send Marissa to the hangar to work some chores during the day, and to attend to his quarter to indulge his disturbing – and most of the time painful – sexual taste during the night. And to humiliate her more, Benten forced her to go barefoot all the time. It made her feel naked as everybody shot silly stare at her.

However, she chose to behave properly. "No, Ovkhan. I haven't been educated the way I should have."

Darien cocked his eyebrows, looking at her from head to her filthy toes, then turned to watch Abby who had gained an advantage over Dirk. Heavy kicks and punches snapped Dirk's head in blinding speed, and his face was severely disfigured. In an act of defiance Dirk launched a combination of jabs and straight kicks, but Abby blocked all of them, an impressive feat considering her right eye had been swollen shut. Dirk attempted a long kick at the head, but Abby ducked and swept his other leg. With a loud crash Dirk fell on his back.

"Come on, Abby! Finish him up!" he yelled at his sibkin. His voice was swallowed by the uproar of other Clanners, but Marissa could still hear him. There was a gleam of hope that Darien would take interest in her predicament, and her heart screamed for his attention. After all, he didn't insult her the way other Clanners did. But seeing him engrossed in the fight, cheering on his sibkin at every bloody strike she threw at Dirk, made her hope fade away. The considerate mechwarrior was just another bloodthirsty Clanner consumed by violence.

In the middle of the circle, Dirk got up but it was clear he had nothing else to give. His breath was ragged, and his hands were shaking. His chest heaved up and down with audible wheezing coming out of his mouth. He lunged, hoping to catch Abby with his powerful punch, but Abby sidestepped his attack. She raised her knee, hammering Dirk's bloated ribs, then buried her elbow into Dirk's shoulder where his neck joined his body. A muffled groan escaped Dirk's mouth, just before he slammed into the ground, shuddering in pain.

Abby kneeled next to him and pressed her knee on the back of his head, pressing his face onto the ground. Dirk writhed and twisted to free himself, but Abby mounted the pressure, cutting him off from precious oxygen. Soon his struggle weakened, and he ended up as a lump of flesh, lying on dirt and his own blood.

"I am Abby of the Wolf!" Abby proclaimed her victory. "Cadet Dirk had come to me with baseless accusations about my victory in the battleground, and now he proved himself to be nothing but a joke to the Wolf Clan! I win this honor duel!"

Darien and Hector leapt into the circle, fists firm in the air. They bumped their chests with the bludgeoned but victorious Abby, as other mechwarriors retrieved the unconscious body of Dirk. The Circle of Equals dissolved itself in a triumphant resolution for Abby, leaving Marissa standing unnoticed.

Just when Marissa was about to continue her interrupted course, Darien called her, "Bondswoman!"

"Ovkhan?" she turned, watching him watching her.

Darien shook his head. "You are not supposed to be treated this way. You are a bondswoman, an honor spoil of war. We are not the Jade Falcons or Smoke Jaguars who treat their bondsmen like animals. Wolf warriors treat their bondsmen with respect. You should feel home in Wolf territory. There are not many things I can do as a cadet, but I will find a way to make your life easier. You will hear from me again, Bondswoman."

Marissa could almost cry. "Thank you, Ovkhan."

"I am not an Ovkhan yet," Darien huffed as he turned away from her. "Call me Darien… Darien of the Wolf."


	13. Chapter 12

**Chapter XII**

Ambition… That can be a virtue when it drives us to excel.

_~ Commodus, Gladiator_

* * *

><p><em><strong>Tranquil, Kerensky Cluster,<br>**__**June 13, 3050**_

The aftermath of Abby-Dirk honor duel was anticlimactic compared to the build-up and the explosion of battle. The investigation never proved that Abby used a dishonorable tactics against Dirk. The battleROM just showed that Abby shot Dirk in the cockpit. Whether it was a calculated shot or an accident was inconclusive. As the investigation wound down, Abby and Dirk recovered from their battle damage. Eventually Dirk won his Trial of Position and was assigned to the 7th Battle Cluster, the Blood Drinkers. Abby never saw him again.

Abby soon forgot about the incident and focused on a new issue at hand: Natasha Kerensky, Wolf Clan's living legend, had been building her personal unit, the 13th Wolf Guards. Always known as a maverick, Natasha didn't adhere to traditional Clan Trial of Position to fill her unit, but rather she went unit to unit and handpicked warriors that she liked. This recruitment method irked a lot of unit commanders, but nothing stopped her since the origin of the 13th Wolf Guards rooted back to Khan Ulric Kerensky himself.

"Legend has it said that Natasha is mentally disturbed," Hector said as Abby, Darien and he rested after a day of hard training. "She lived in the Inner Sphere for far too long, and _freebirth_'s beliefs poisoned her mind."

"That is nonsense, Hector," Darien muttered. "She lost her lover, Joshua, to an Inner Sphere nobleman. The incident pushed her beyond sanity. You should check your facts."

"My facts are accurate," Hector huffed. "It was the Inner Sphere's concept of emotional attachment that drove her insane. The Spheroid barbarians call it _love_. Natasha was intoxicated by _freebirth's_ concept that _love_ is all that matters, that _love_ is all we need, that _love_ is a many splendored thing… the truth is, too much love will kill you."

"But you cannot deny the fact that she was a regular mechwarrior before Joshua's death, and an unstoppable force after," Abby joined in. "Love is not a bad thing. It is just not used properly to excel ourselves."

"So do you think emotional attachment like the Spheroids should be allowed within our Clan, Abby?" Darien threw a jest.

"If it turns us into the greatest mechwarriors of all time like Natasha Kerensky, then yes," Abby replied with a shrug. "We are born warriors. We war, therefore we are. Anything we do should make us on top of our games, and love is not an exception."

"Is there anything else in your mind other than being the best mechwarrior ever, Abby?" Hector said with a smidge sign of annoyance. "Someday you will hurt yourself with this obsession of yours."

Abby let out a furious mirth. "Now you speak like a _freebirth_, Hector! What are we but agents of death? What are we born to if not sacrifice and death for the glory of our Clan? Is it not what we all want, Hector? To die for the glory of the Wolf Clan?"

"But Hector is right, Abby," Darien said carefully. "We all want to die in glory for the Clan. But the way you are achieving it is downright suicidal. If you keep your pace, you will waste your life and die as a fool."

"Natasha Kerenskky old unit, the Black Widow Company, was a suicidal team," Abby scoffed curtly. "Yet it is the best team the Inner Sphere can muster, and even we the Clans come to respect it. That is the price of excellence. And that is how we as Clan warriors should live our lives."

"By becoming suicidal?" Hector shot a sarcastic smile. "Looks like you are truly enamored by Natasha Kerensky, Abby. You may like it in the 13th Wolf Guards. I heard Natasha is recruiting _solahma_ warriors too."

Abby stiffened as the idea of joining Natasha's personal unit pumped adrenaline to her bloodstream. Hector threw her a mild insult as _solahma_ warriors tended to be suicidal. But she chose to ignore him. She dreamed of fighting under Natasha Kerensky. In fact, she dreamed of being Natasha Kerensky.

"I will stop at nothing until I am a member of the 13th Wolf Guards," Abby said sternly.

"Just watch your step," Darien reminded her. "There are many ways to achieve greatness. Being obsessed by it is not the only one."

"I heard you once, Darien," Abby flashed a cocky smile. "As a matter of fact, you start to bore me."

* * *

><p>The talk with Hector and Darien prompted Abby with a new viewpoint about her sibkins: they were not interested in pursuing a spot in the 13th Wolf Guards. Hector was and had always been an underachiever mechwarrior. He was physically exceptional, and he was a great combatant, the best Abby had known intimately. But he just didn't have enough motivation to push himself beyond his limit. Darien had everything he needed to be great, but he was more interested in non-warrior matters than training to be a great soldier. History, strategy, philosophy, and other stupid materials distracted him on daily basis. And Abby noticed latelythat Darien had been spending a lot of his free time with a bondsman.<p>

That left Abby with a huge sigh of relief, but not for long. Natasha Kerensky quickly filled up her roster, and since Abby's Trial of Position wouldn't come until next year, she started to get nervous that all positions may have been filled when she graduated. With Operation Revival in full swing, soon Wolf Clan would send Natasha's elite unit to the front line. If it happened before Abby took her Trial of Position, her dream would evaporate.

So Abby took matters into her own hand. She went to the HPG uplink and tried to establish communication line with Natasha herself. At first, her effort met fierce resistance, but Abby was relentless. She kept on trying, and in the end, Natasha picked up the other end.

"Ovkhan," Abby gave her a deep nod and a salute. "My name is Abby of the Wolf. I am a cadet from the Kerensky-Tchernovkov sibko. Forgive my audacity to contact you directly, but I have a very important thing to discuss with you."

"Abby, Hector, and Darien," Natasha quickly replied. Her stare pierced Abby's eyes like twin lances. "I know who you are. I was looking for candidates to fill in my unit when somebody showed me the video feed of you and your sibkins busting up your instructor. Pretty impressive stunt, Cadet."

Abby almost choked. She hated that incident, but now it gave her a head start on her bidding to join the 13th Wolf Guard.

"I want to join the 13th Wolf Guard, Ovkhan," Abby didn't waste time to let her intention known. "I am the best cadet of my sibko. My achievements are recorded everywhere throughout the training center here at Tranquil. I put in the fastest time for a first-time mechwarrior to run 5 kilometers, almost breaking the record. I never lost during battlemech mock-up trials. I led the Kerensky-Tchernovkov sibko to win a live-fire exercise against Carns-Raddick sibko. I believe you will find me the best cadet in all Tranquil. I will be a great addition to your lineup."

"You have an impressive resume, Cadet Abby, and an even more impressive speech to sell it," Natasha jabbed her with a quip. "But you still have to prove yourself in the Trial of Position. It's a Clan tradition, Cadet, and you can't just go around it."

Natasha's use of contraction annoyed Abby to the bitter end, but the legendary mechwarrior had been known to do it extensively to test out her opponents. Abby swallowed her irritation and maintained her strict profile. "I am afraid that I do not have such luxury, Ovkhan. By the time I pass my Trial of Position, you have everything you need."

"Oh no, Cadet Abby," Natasha grinned, enjoying Abby squirming uncomfortably. "I won't pass cadets that beat up their instructor. I will watch your Trial of Position next year, and I will grant you a spot in my Wolf Guards if you can prove yourself." She paused a moment, stripping Abby naked with her stare. "But now you have piqued my interest. Answer me, Cadet, why are you so driven in joining my unit?"

Abby's nose flared as she answered Natasha, "I want to be the best in the Wolf Clan, Ovkhan, and the best is with you."

Natasha leaned on her seat. "Very well. Your intention is duly noted. Train hard and prove yourself in the Trial of Position. You have my attention, Cadet Abby. Don't make me regret it."

Abby thought she just had an orgasm. "Many thanks, Ovkhan. You will not regret it."


	14. Chapter 13

**Chapter XIII**

**Author's Note:  
><strong>**TheColonel382**: Thank you! I have yet to set up a sequence where Stackpole's Wolf characters meet mine. However, one thing I'm certain is that Marissa will not go with Carew (Dammit, there goes another twist!)  
><strong>Ulquiorra9000<strong>: I may sketch one or two scenes from this story but it won't be Abby vs Dirk. I'll find something far more dramatic than that.

There will be a time when our descendants,  
>Return to reclaim what is our right.<br>With honor swelling their hearts, they will crusade  
>Against the dark emotions that have dimmed<br>The Inner Sphere for so long.

_~ The Remembrance, Passage 3, Verse 41, Line 1-5_

* * *

><p><strong><em>Tranquil, Kerensky Cluster,<br>_****_September 26, 3050_**

"By this time I think you already know that the Clans are descendants from the Exodus initiated by Alexander Kerensky some 300 years ago," Darien said as he munched on his lunch, a simple cereal bar. He had been having lunch together with Marissa for the last several months, spending one hour a day to give Marissa everything she didn't get from Benten. At first Marissa was reluctant, lest Benten found out and hurt her for subordination. But Darien took her to the mechwarrior mess hall where aerospace pilots rarely hung out. With her similar appearance to Clan mechwarrior phenotype, Marissa blended nicely among Wolf mechwarriors.

"After they settled in Kerensky Cluster, they reconfigured the society into what you see today. There are five castes of the Clans. The warrior caste is the highest-rank and most prestigious caste, but it is also the hardest to get into. Mechwarriors, pilots, infantrymen, Elementals, all fall into this category. To get into the warrior caste, one must endure physical and mental hardships since very young age. Many died during this period, and those who survived and could not stand the harsh trainings were thrown into other castes. Only the best, toughest individuals were allowed to enter the warrior caste."

Marissa took mental notes as Darien went on to explain the scientist, merchant, labor, and the notorious bandit castes. She started to get a grip of the Clan society and the cruel treatment she received since she was captured by Benten. These Clan warriors had been forged and tested practically all their lives. Most Spheroid warriors did not start training until they were 16 or 17 years of age. Half of them – like Marissa – never had standard training. Now it was conceivable why these Clan warriors acted like they were superior to Spheroids because they _were_ superior to Spheroids in almost any aspect.

"Resources were limited, good assets were scarce, and war machines were expensive," Darien continued as he took a large swig of his energy drink. "Our forefathers established rule-of-engagement laws called _zellbrigen_ so war among Clans would not go out of control. For every engagement, the combatants are required to bid their assets in a ritual called _batchall_. The engagement is carried out with the lowest bid. This way, the losses and damages are minimized."

"Bid?" Marissa quipped; her voice was muffled by a large bite of sub. "I don't remember Benten bidding anything when he attacked me and my compatriots."

"Pirates and mercenaries are not worthy of such honor," Darien muttered bitterly. "They tarnish the sanctity of war by inducing money into it. Whenever we see one on our crosshair, we just shoot it."

Marissa's face turned red, and her ears burnt with embarrassment and rage. Not that she was proud of being a pirate, but the Clanner made such a derogatory comment about her heritage that she just had to defend herself.

"And what is this obsession about honor?" she hissed. "I saw your sibkin Abby bludgeon her opponent in an honor duel. Honor, you said? She could've killed the other guy! I have seen dozens of Clansmen getting crippled or killed over petty disputes. Honor, you said? Is it really honor or is it just some ultra-machismo of bio-engineered soldiers bred to conquer the universe?"

"Your understanding about our culture is pathetic, and your unwillingness to learn makes you an even more repulsive individual," Darien gritted his teeth. "I am trying to help you, but it is obvious that I am just wasting my time."

"Help me? If you want to help me, kill Benten in that honor duel of yours!" Marissa scoffed.

"I will, if I have a reason to do it," Darien said as he finished his drink. "I cannot just invite him into the Circle of Equals. It does not work that way. He is a Star Commander, a ranking officer whose worthiness has been proven in combats. I am just a cadet. To challenge someone in a higher hierarchy needs a very strong reason. Surely you understand this. It works the same in any Inner Sphere military system, _quiaff_?"

Marissa had never been in any military unit aside from the motley pirate band, but it was not hard to see the logic behind Darien's reasoning. Even in the dysfunctional pirate hierarchy, nobody dared to challenge somebody of a higher rank without a clear accusation. She was a squadron leader in the pirate band, and nobody raised a voice against her although her experience paled in comparison to her subordinates.

"You're right, I'm sorry," she whispered. "I have been ungrateful. But that's because you mocked my heritage. I may not be born through sophisticated bio-engineering program, but I am still a human. I am not the same as that monkey-bat crossbreed of yours, so if you really want to help me, don't insult me."

"_Surat_. The name of the monkey-bat crossbreed is _surat_," Darien nodded appreciatively. "And I apologize. I will not make any reference to your past anymore. But you have to learn to be our equal."

"But what for?" Marissa sighed in exasperation. "Benten will never recognize me. I can be as Clan as you are, but in the end, I will just be his toy for the rest of my life. He swore he would do it, and he made me believe him." She sunk her face into her palms. "I'm screwed, aren't I?"

Darien let out a long puff of breath. The solution was simple: pick a fight with Benten and bludgeon him in the Circle of Equals. It was the process that was almost impossible to execute because Benten outranked him by two levels. Besides, Benten had been known to beat up mechwarriors using his electro-lash. As much as Darien wanted to help Marissa, he didn't want to fall victim of Benten's cattle whip and face subordination at the same time.

"Do it regardless," he muttered. "Do your best to learn the way of the Clan. Benten can ignore you, but somebody will notice. There are good people, Warden people who sit high in Clan council. If they hear your story, if they recognize your spirit to be integrated into Wolf Clan and your only obstacle is Benten, they can pressure him to release you."

"But…"

"I will handle that part," Darien squeezed her hands. "Your job is to learn. We shall continue doing this, one hour a day during lunch. Take note everything I say to you. Change your attitude, change your way of speaking, and change your mindset about everything regarding the Clan. It is a long and painful path, but I assure you I will take you out of Benten's grip."

Marissa felt her heart tingled with hope.

"Why are you doing this?" she couldn't help but ask. "Why do you sacrifice so much for a _freeborn_ like me? I'm not your bondsman, I'm not even a mechwarrior for you to care. What do you gain from helping me?"

Darien replied with a shrug. "Honor, I guess. I am proud to be a Wolf Clansman. What Benten does to you is not what an honorable Wolf kin should do. I am going to fix it."

Marissa smiled, feebly, but with all the sincerity she had in her heart. "At last, we can agree on what honor is supposed to be," she said as she squeezed Darien's hand back. "Thank you. I mean it."


	15. Chapter 14

**Chapter XIV**

And never forget that help may come  
>From the most unlikely of quarters<br>And success rest upon the shoulders  
>Of those kept shadowed until the time of need<p>

_- The Remembrance, Passage 222, Verse 6, Lines 11-14_

* * *

><p><em><strong>Tranquil, Kerensky Cluster,<br>**__**May 10, 3051**_

The Blooding.

For twenty years, Wolf sibkins were trained, ground, forged in extreme violence and hardship to become the ultimate warriors. Their twentieth birthday marked a very important milestone in their lives. It was the time for The Blooding, the gate to enter the warrior caste. It was the test that placed them among the elites, among the lesser castes, or among the dead. It was the gravest trial in their lives to date.

Abby understood that The Blooding included three live-fire duels against her sibkins. Her first opponent was Cadet Griffin, a young Wolf who had been struggling all his life and who barely made it to the top. On paper she should not have a problem with him. Then she would have to face Hector, providing the big man passed his first fight. Hector started off as a punching bag for others in battlemech fighting, but had become an unstoppable force after he got himself an _Adder_. If she could beat Hector, she would have to fight Darien in her final fight, if Darien overcame his own ordeal. However, she had no doubt that he would. The three of them were the top three cadets in their sibko.

Having to fight Hector before Darien put Abby at a disadvantage. She was worried that her death match against Hector would take a lot of her, which would severely weaken her on the final round against Darien. She would rather have Darien and Hector bash each other on their second round, so she could watch and analyze their tactics.

However, as promised, Natasha Kerensky herself would oversee this Trial of Position. Fighting both Darien and Hector, and presumably beating them soundly, would certainly impress the Black Widow. And then, she could bask in the hard-fought glory. Nobody could deny her a spot in Natasha's elite cluster.

"Ovkhan, I am honored that you come to my Blooding," Abby nodded deeply as the legendary mechwarrior took a seat among other spectators. "I have trained very hard. I swear you will not be disappointed."

"As you were, Cadet," Natasha nodded back, almost unenthusiastically. "Good luck."

Abby gave her a salute, then rushed down to the hangar where her _Mist Lynx B_ was waiting. Griffin, her opponent, had already switched to cooling vest and short. Abby snatched a quick glance at his face, and she saw a gleam of doubt in his eyes. He knew he placed last among the remaining of the sibkins, and he had to fight the best, hungriest warrior of them all. He knew he had no chance of winning.

Abby knew she already won the fight.

The training field was dry and bare, and Griffin's _Jenner IIC_ had already waited for her on the other side of the field, just outside Abby's weapon range. The powerful missile boat paired up two highly-accurate SRM6 launchers with a streak SRM4. Abby clutched her joysticks and rested her thumbs on the triggers as she took her place, directly in front of Griffin, watching and waiting for his weapons to rain down firepower on her.

As soon as the training instructor declared the start of the fight, Griffin's SRM6s went alive, spraying deadly warheads at Abby's direction. Just like Abby thought Griffin would do. She deftly lowered her mech down and sidestepped the attack. A few clangs on her left side gave her a warning that Griffin still managed to score some hits, although they were far from her broad side.

Griffin used his advantage and sprayed his streak missiles while moving backward. Abby twisted left, sacrificing a ton of armor on the right arm while closing the gap to the _Jenner IIC_. Acrid smell of gunpowder filled the cockpit, churning her stomach. But she increased speed, closing the gap, as if Griffin's attack did nothing to her.

Coming in at 200 meters, Abby unloaded her missile boxes, one after another, taking a brief 5 seconds between the two. Three missiles busted Griffin's chest, two slammed into his left hip. All stopped by slabs of armor, but the top-heavy omnimech staggered and wobbled. Abby watched how the _Jenner IIC_ rocked back and forth under the onslaught, and took a mental note where her missiles struck the _Jenner_. She would need more of those shots to bring down Griffin, so instead of pushing her advantage, she chose to back off and took a better position for her next assault.

Griffin quickly regained his footing and propelled his mech into the air. All missile boxes roared; his dumbfire missiles trapped Abby in an umbrella-like canopy, while his streak missiles quickly lanced the _Mist Lynx's_ center torso. Abby held her joystick firm, twisting left to block the missiles with her left arm. Vicious blasts staggered the _Mist Lynx_, throwing Abby's head to all direction. Her neurohelmet smashed onto the cockpit wall, and for a momentary lapse of consciousness Abby thought she was done. Griffin's missiles tore up a bad gash on her left arm, cutting off a few strands of myomer bundles, and threatening to breach the left arm with the double medium lasers on it.

_Griffin was not a bad shot_, Abby thought as she pulled her _Mist Lynx_ up to fighting stance. He trained well, and he made a good mech choice for his Trial of Position. But he failed to notice the greatest advantage of the _Jenner IIC_ over the _Mist Lynx_. Griffin could outrun Abby by almost 40 kph, but he chose to engage Abby head on, as if his _Jenner IIC_ carried double the armor of the smaller but equally powerful _Mist Lynx B_.

And Abby would make him pay for his stupidity.

Just as the _Jenner IIC_ landed, Abby soared, putting her crosshair at the _Jenner's_ broad side just under the left missile box. Her twin lasers made a deep incision on the _Jenner's_ leg joint. Her missiles exploited the slit more. Four warheads ripped the wound open and cracked the leg bearings. The leg locked up in an awkward position, preventing Griffin from making further movements.

With his mech almost disabled, Griffin could only use his jump jets to maneuver. He jumped again, turning his mech to face Abby, and sprayed his missiles in a forced, desperate attack. Abby leisurely brought her _Mist Lynx_ low in a squat, and all Griffin's missiles sailed harmlessly above her head.

Abby waited until her weapons were fully recycled, then unleashed a murderous volley at the _Jenner's_ left side. Each missile slammed home onto the _Jenner's_ left torso. Tongues of flames, smoke, and shredded bits of armor blended into muddled cloud. The impact from the missiles pushed the mech far to its right side, and the damaged joint snapped. The _Jenner_ twisted left and right, haplessly fighting for balance, but Griffin's erratic movement only made things worse. The _Jenner_ _IIC_ lurched forward and crashed, nose flat to the ground.

Abby could have declared victory, but she so badly craved for Natasha's attention that she decided to go for a fatality. After all, Griffin failed his test, so it wouldn't matter if he lived or died. As the ever-struggling Griffin tried to pick up some dignity, Abby walked by his downed _Jenner IIC_, rubbing the alpha strike button impatiently. The moment she heard the ring, she let loose everything. Her _Mist Lynx_ shuddered, and waste heat bled into the cockpit like a tidal wave, forcing her to gasp for air. But her missiles went through the _Jenner's_ core unabated. The 35-ton Inner Sphere refit disintegrated in a firestorm, raining hail of burning debris throughout the entire training field.

Abby let the fire subside before walking back to the hangar. She took a good look at Natasha, but her icy cold eyes didn't reveal anything. She just sat there on her bench, motionless, expressionless, watching the _Mist Lynx_ take the victory lap almost unenthusiastically. Abby was discontented. She thought her performance could squeeze a glint of satisfaction or awe from the Black Widow. She was wrong, or so she thought.

It could only mean one thing: her next fight would have to be even more spectacular than this one.


	16. Chapter 15

**Chapter XV**

**_Battlemech Training Ground,  
><em>****_Tranquil, Kerensky Cluster,  
><em>****_May 11, 3051_**

Clanners did not express their emotion the way Spheroid did. They were born out of canisters, or 'iron wombs', lacking the nurture and love of mothers. They did not show affection to one another by touching, smiling, or giving words of encouragement. That was what Marissa learnt about the Clan society, and that was what he saw in Darien. His face was always bland; his voice was perpetually monotone without a glint of excitement in it. Even his eyes didn't show emotional spark when he talked about Wolf Clan's achievements in the past. Everything with him was all about business.

But Marissa couldn't help feeling strangely 'attached' to Darien. She was aware that it was not a crush, nor it was a physical attraction like she had with Seth. It was more like a hunger of human interaction. She was thrown into this vicious society, full of spiteful bio-engineered warriors, and Darien was the only one who appeased her thirst. He was the only one who treated her like his 'equal'. She understood that it might not be the case, that he might still see her as a savage, a genetic imperfection, or a bondsman. But his effort to educate Marissa touched her deeper than what he intended.

Thus it came to her attention that Darien was undergoing the most brutal test in his life, The Blooding, where he had to fight another cadet in a live-fire situation. Darien was not new to live-fire situation, but never before he had such gravity in his training. The Blooding was the baptism of fire for Clan warriors. Succeed, and the gate of glory opened up for him. Fail, and he would be thrown into disgrace if not death.

Marissa decided she would give Darien all the support she could give.

The battlemech training hangar was livid when Marissa stepped into the building. Technicians put a finishing touch to the two battlemechs, a _Locust IIC_ and a _Kit Fox_. She knew which one Darien's was, and she approached the small crowd at the feet of the omnimech which happened to be technicians prepping up Darien for his upcoming battle. He was naked barring a flimsy short and a pair of boots. The warm temperature of Tranquil already made him sweat, accentuating his musculature underneath the dim hangar lightbulbs.

Marissa's mind exploded with amorous fantasy.

"Marissa? What are you doing here?" Darien yelled out when he spotted her. "Did we not go through our session today?"

"Indeed," Marissa replied nonchalantly, washing away the illicit imagery from her mind. She grabbed the cooling vest from the table and brought it toward Darien. "But what makes you think I cannot see you outside our regular meeting? I am here to wish you luck."

"You should not have," Darien said with a small smile.

"Why? You spent a lot of time teaching me the way of the Clan. I cannot possibly return your kindness, so at least let me show you my support." She flung the cooling vest over his shoulder and pulled the strap one by one. "In ancient Japanese tradition, it was customary for the women to dress up their men before they went to war. The women removed the men's kimono and put on their battle armors." She zipped up the last strap just under Darien's chin. "It was a token of their highest respect and appreciation for their men, lest it was their last time."

"You are not even Japanese," Darien muttered.

"You do not have to be Japanese to appreciate Japanese ancient tradition," Marissa replied with a smile. "You are all set. Good luck, and please do not get killed."

Darien nodded, slightly confused by Marissa's unexpected stunt, but decided he would deal with her after the trial. He boarded the elevator which took him to the cockpit of his _Kit Fox B_, but kept his eyes on her all the way to the top. He gave her one more courtesy nod before disappeared into the cockpit.

Marissa retreated from the hangar and found a secluded spot next to the bleacher with an adulterated view of the training ground. The two mechs took their positions, turned to the bleacher and performed a simple salute with their arms, then turned to see each other. Less than one minute later, the two lunged at each other with their lasers blazing.

Darien taught Marissa some simple knowledge about omni-technology. An omnimech was compatible to any weapon system developed by the Clans, so it could be configured or repaired much quicker than basic battlemech. However, omnimech's superiority over basic battlemech was paramount in an open-field engagement. In a Trial of Position, where repair, reload, and salvage was unavailable, there was no real advantage of being in an omnimech. It was all about skill, grit, heart, and a little bit of luck.

The duel raged on, and each combatant scored big hits. Marissa was never a fan of battlemech combat, but she got so engrossed in the duel that her fists pumped everytime Darien scored, and yowled nervously when the _Locust_ hit the _Kit Fox_ with a calculated salvo. It was almost embarrassing, thinking of how she became utterly attached to something that she loathed not a year before. But she couldn't help it. She wanted Darien to win. She hoped and prayed that Darien's large-bored UAC10 would smash the _Locust IIC_ in the head, but for some reason Darien kept missing shots. His UAC10 thundered across the field, but nothing good ever came out of it.

The _Locust IIC_, increasingly confident, made Darien pay for each missed shot with highly-accurate laser blasts. Globules of molten ferro-fibrous sprayed into a wide area every time a laser strand stabbed the _Kit Fox_. Darien twisted and lurched, spreading the damages across his entire body while focusing on the _Locust's_ lower body. But without the crippling punch from the UAC10, the _Kit Fox_ was seriously undergunned even by a _Locust_. And before long, Marissa's fingers intertwined in a prayer position, hoping for a miracle as the _Kit Fox_ started backpedaling under the laser onslaught of the _Locust IIC_.

And then the unthinkable (or perhaps the inevitable, but Marissa just didn't want to believe it) happened. A calculated shot tore the remaining armor of the right arm, exposing the inner structures. The _Locust IIC_ hurled its entire arsenal, ripping the arm until it breached in a fiery blast. The _Kit Fox_ staggered, shaking and wobbling to sustain the shockwave, but the loss of mass was too much. It careened to the right, suspended by the stump of its arm where the UAC10 located a minute ago.

Marissa bit her lips as the _Locust IIC_ moved in for the kill.

And then, the _Locust_'s gait became slower and slower as steam burst from the coolant exhaust. The _Locust_ moved forward to a stop, then started going backward when the _Kit Fox_ sprung to life in a newfound confidence. The _Kit Fox's_ missile box hissed, spitting dumbfires at less than 150 meters, straight into the _Locust's_ lower torso. Its lasers followed suit. A heavy screech reverberated throughout the entire field, seconds before the _Locust_ tumbled backward as if it had no support left. Fire engulfed the _Locust's_ lower torso as its pilot climbed out of the cockpit, a sure sign of total surrender.

Marissa stood dumbfounded as the _Kit Fox_ took a victory lap circling the downed _Locust_. What the hell did just happen? Did somebody answer her prayer? Was it a lucky shot? Did Darien know what he was doing? Darien missed most of his shots throughout the duel. He didn't even score a hit with his best weapon. Then in a blink of an eye, everything turned upside down.

Then it dawned on her. _It was a trap!_

Darien didn't miss. He did it on purpose. By continuously missing his big shots, he tricked the _Locust_ pilot into believing that he was rushing a home run hit with his big cannon. The _Locust_ pilot put so much attention to the big gun that he never realized Darien's lasers had done significant damage to the _Locust's_ lower torso. Then Darien sacrificed his UAC10, drawing multiple alpha strikes from the _Locust_, thus putting it into overheating. When everything came together at the end, it was just an easy shot to end the trial.

That was what Darien always told Marissa – _Never rely solely on your weapons… use your head in combat_ – and stayed true to his own words. She smiled foolishly. Just like the _Locust IIC_ pilot, she fell victim to Darien's tactic, although she wasn't hurt in any way barring her self esteem. But considering how much he had learnt from him, how far she accomplished under his tutelage, she wouldn't mind. She could only imagine how different things would be if Darien was her bondholder instead of the demented, decrepit-looking Benten.

Why, she asked, couldn't Darien be her bondholder?


	17. Chapter 16

**Chapter XVI**

_**Tranquil, Kerensky Cluster,  
><strong>__**May 12, 3051**_

For the last several months, Abby noticed that Darien picked up a new hobby. He had been having rendezvous with a freebirth from the aerospace division, and for a strange reason she was pissed off about it. Strange, because in fact it could boost her chance in winning the competition and achieve her dream. Strange, because she never really embraced the Crusader or Warden philosophy, unlike Hector who was leaning heavily toward the Crusader or Darien who was in favor of the Warden. She was all about going to the top, and her getting annoyed at Darien's tryst made her even more annoyed.

"It looks to me that you take your Trial of Position very lightly, Darien," she couldn't control herself and decided to confront Darien during their training break. "Do you think your skill is above everybody else's in our group that you do not think you need focusing and exercise more?"

Darien, of course, was completely blindsided by her sudden outburst. He could only throw a blank stare at Abby, asking explanation in a wordless cry through his eyes.

"What in Kerensky's name are you talking about, Abby?" Hector blurted, just as flummoxed as Darien but much less stunned since he was not under Abby's fire. "Are you accusing Darien of disrespecting the Trial of Position? Even if he did, that is none of your business. The training instructor or the Clan council will deal with him. I think you are the one that is loosing focus, not him."

"This does not concern you, Hector, and you should have kept your comment to yourself. Your ignorance embarrasses me," Abby snapped. "But if you want to know what has been escaping your eyes, our friend Darien has been having an affair with a freebirth from the aerofighter division."

"It is one hour a day during my lunch time," Darien was still confused as to where this conversation was going. "How does this become a lack of focus on the trial in my part?"

"But she has been attending your trial!" Abby pressed on. "Only a _coffin mate_ does such thing!"

"She is not my _coffin mate_!" Darien started to lose his own temper. "It was her choice, not mine! She is a bondsman, but she is not an animal. She is free to go wherever she wants to."

"Just one hour a day?" Hector muttered. "So you have not coupled with her?"

"Of course I have not coupled with her!" Darien became furious. "Just because I spend some time with her does not mean I am having sex with her! And even if I have, that is none of your concern! I can choose whoever I have sex with! What is this, Abby? Why, all of sudden, my private life becomes a large problem for you?"

"You are dealing with a freebirth!" Abby raised her voice. "Have you no shame?"

"I am educating a bondsman!"

"She is a freebirth!"

"She is a human being!"

"She is a _freebirth_!"

"And what do you care about a freebirth?" Darien yelled. "You do not care about being a trueborn and not a freebirth! I know where you stand between the Crusader and Warden factions, Abby. You stand outside of the circle, far away from both factions, so you can focus on your ascent to immortality. Why now, Abby? Why is it suddenly important to you?"

"I do not care about being a trueborn or a freebirth!" Abby replied with equal intensity. "I care about our Clan tradition! The Trial of Position is a sacred ritual that all worthy Clan warriors have to undergo. It is a display of merit in the Clan touman. It is not just a test that you can ace or flunk as you wish. It is a sacred test that was laid out by our founding fathers. You, Darien, you spit on all things that are sacred about the Trial of Position by taking it lightly and meddling with someone else's bondsman! That is a disgrace!"

"And why are you meddling with someone else's bondsman?" Hector joined in. "She is not your bondsman. What are you trying to prove, Darien?"

"Do you understand the concept of bondsman, Hector? Have you really pondered why our founding fathers created bondsman situation, Abby?" Darien calmed down a bit. "Bondsman is a prisoner with honor. We are warriors, and as warriors we respect other warriors. We take warriors that we beat in an honorable combat as a prisoner in honor. We teach them our way of life, and we give them a chance to prove themselves if they want to integrate into our Clan. Do you understand why? Because they have different combat perspective, different way of thinking, different training background, different combat style, and different set of skills. They enrich our society. That is the reason the Wolf Clan stays on top in the Clan society because no other Clans embrace diversity as much as the Wolf Clan. No other Clans integrate bondsman as many as we do. That is the reason we are the strongest Clan there is!"

"She is a freebirth, Darien," Abby spat bitterly. "She does not deserve honor!"

"Freebirth or trueborn, Marissa is a warrior, so she deserves to be treated as such," Darien exhaled. "From what she told me, she fought and was beaten in an honorable combat by her bondholder, but he has not given her any chance to learn the way of the Clan and to integrate into our society. I am just exercising my obligation as a member of the Wolf Clan.

"You accused me of taking my Trial of Position lightly, Abby. I am not. It is still my highest priority. However, giving an honorable bondsman what he deserves is also a responsibility of all members of the Wolf Clan. That is what I am doing, and I stand by my decision. I do not think defending myself in a Circle of Equal is a good idea at this point. I do not want to put ourselves in a disadvantage when we step into our next trial combat. But if you want it, I will entertain your wish."

This argument was stupid; Abby knew that much. She started a baseless accusation about Darien's extracurricular activity, and he came back with thick defense, none of which she could contest. It was a brazen but shallow move on her part, and now she had to swallow her pride.

However, she had to do it. She just had to confront Darien. Why? Why should she care about him? Why should she care about him and her? Would it matter if he failed because of his lack of concentration on his trial? Was it because Abby wanted to fight him in his best without distraction, so her victory would seem perfect in the eyes of Natasha Kerensky? Or was it because he put more attention for the freebirth instead of her?

Abby didn't know the answer.

"Your fight is with me tomorrow," Hector said to Abby, half joking. "I want to look great tomorrow, so do not sabotage my chance to shine by fighting Darien first."

"Seyla," Abby replied in a huff. She turned to Darien. "I will put our discussion to rest and focus on the trial for now. If you are what you said you were, I expect to see you do the same thing. I want to fight a worthy and honorable opponent in my trial, not an embarrassment to the Wolf Clan."

"You can expect nothing less from me," Darien said. "And I expect the same thing from you."


	18. Chapter 17

**Chapter XVII**

This is MY stage!  
><em>~ Anthony Davis, NCAA Semifinal, New Orleans, 2012<em>

* * *

><p><em><strong>Battlemech Training Ground,<br>**__**Tranquil, Kerensky Cluster,  
><strong>__**May 13, 3051**_

Two sibkins. Two friends. Two lovers. Two companions that spent 20 years together. Now the two of them had to go face to face with guns lining up to each other's forehead. One of them would advance , the other would succumb to a lower caste, or death. The Clan grew them to be the best fighting machines in human history, but with grave consequences: it took their minds and souls, and grew them apart from each other. Such irony, but it was the way of the Clan. There was nothing else to be said or done.

"This is it, Abby," Hector spoke through the comlink as he guided his _Adder Prime_ out of the hangar. "This is us. Never thought our camaraderie would end like this. What a terrible waste!"

Hector's voice was digitized heavily through the comlink, so Abby couldn't pick up his emotion. But still his comment trapped her in an eerie atmosphere so much she had goosebumps. Was it a prophecy of his own death or a threat that he would kill Abby? Or was he referring to their relationship, destined to doom as the aftermath of the Trial of Position? Abby didn't want to know. There were so many things to think about.

" It is the way of the Clan, Hector," Abby said unenthusiastically, shrugging off the eeriness.

"Seyla," Hector huffed his answer. "This is the way of the Clan."

Abby knew Hector was a brute. She had seen him fight many times, both augmented and on ground, and there was little more than nothing about Hector in terms of strategy. But he was the epitome of brute power. In a fistfight, he would throw himself in front of an Elemental, trade punch, and still win the fight. In mech combat, he fought the same way. The reason he was successful in an _Adder_ was the fact that the 35-ton omnimech offered nothing but brute power.

If Abby tried to trade punch with Hector, the fight would be over in a minute. Hector would eat her alive. No, this was the time for strategy. Natasha Kerensky was a great strategist, perhaps the best humanity had ever seen. If Abby could prove it that she was walking in the same path as the Black Widow, the Star Colonel would happily recruit her for her Wolf Guards. Unfortunately, strategy was not Abby's forte. But against Hector, even the simplest strategy would work like a miracle.

"Begin!" the instructor blared in her ears.

Against her own usual rite to dive straight into battle, Abby took her _Mist Lynx_ far to the left, then came back fast to the center, mimicking a sawtooth pattern. Hector fired his PPC and, as expected, missed badly. He waited a couple second, then shot his second cannon. It too missed. Missing two consecutive hard blows would discourage him, or get him even madder. Abby would guess the second, so she restrained herself from counter attack and took her mech on a stride, expecting Hector to give her a blind chase.

It happened exactly as she wanted.

A long thread of light busted Abby's left shoulder like a whip. Her console went nuts; static filled her monitor, and her head set buzzed with white noise. Abby shot her missiles wildly just to ease the tension. Hector ducked, letting the missiles flew above his head, then lanced the _Mist Lynx_ with his second PPC. The azure particle bolt zipped dangerously close to Abby's chest, and if not because of her timely reflex, the _Mist Lynx_ would have sustained a critical hit.

By this time Abby guessed that she would be able to start hitting back at Hector without fear of his twin particle cannons. But she decided to wait some more. Hector was still dangerous even at below 500 meter range. So she shot her lasers in a hurried manner, then made a tight turn to the right, peppering Hector's side. Her lasers were not strong enough to hurt Hector's thick ferro-fibrous hide, but they were effective in pushing him madder and more anxious.

Hector fired again, grazing Abby's right leg just about the knee. The thin armor was swept clean, exposing the myomer bundles to subsequent attacks. Abby grimaced. Her strategy started to fall apart, giving the fact that she was loosing more and more armor while Hector's hadn't even been challenged yet. She quickly scrambled to find another solution to Hector's volley fires. Circle of Death? Fire Dance? Or maybe shedding some honor the way she did with Cadet Dirk a year ago? But even if it guaranteed her a win, did she have enough dignity to face Natasha Kerensky? Would it guarantee her a place in the 13th Wolf Guards?

In the end, Abby stuck with her plan, peppering Hector with light shots and avoiding direct contact with the powerful _Adder_. She could feel Hector became more and more anxious as he became closer and closer, trying to get a crippling blow at her. She let him get closer, knowing full well that his PPC had a minimum effective range. Hector obviously didn't know that (or he was too caught up with the chase that he forgot about it) and kept on chasing Abby in a wild ride.

And soon enough, Hector began to miss. Abby reversed direction, diving straight at Hector's midst and bombarded him with missiles. Hector, expecting nothing as vicious from Abby, wobbled back in an upset. Abby's missiles pulled some cracks in his side armor. They were not registered in Hector's armor tracker, but he knew he was in trouble.

Desperate to ease the pressure, Hector fired his flamer. Half the body of the _Mist Lynx_ engulfed in flames, and Abby took a safe reverse. The flamer was not that destructive but it slowed her down, hampering her visibility and spiking up her heat level several notches. For several seconds Abby's canopy was smeared with burning gooey, and she had no choice but to let Hector slip from her grip.

Gaining distance, Hector quickly let his guns rip. One bolt struck Abby's left torso, the other blasted her left waist. The _Mist Lynx_ rocked in violent explosions. The left torso split into three parts and the left arm hung virtually by threads of myomers. It was only by sheer luck that Abby was still alive.

Best yet, all guns remained operational. Abby realized she only had a small window of opportunity. She jumped, eating the gap in no time and crash-landed right in Hector's face. Her lasers flashed and her missile tubes hissed in white smoke. Everything converged in the cracks at Hector's side armor, and at less than 100 meters, its punching power was deadly. The _Adder_'s back arched as explosions threw it back in violent crash. A second later its gyro failed and burst, spewing oil like a waterfall.

Standing over Hector's side, watching the blackish fluid gushed from the _Adder's_ crushed gyro, Abby knew she had her place on the final. Hector would not come back up, not without a working gyro. But there was a difference between winning and trying to impress somebody. For Abby, they were all blurred into a thirst for blood. Her ambition was no longer to win her place in the warrior's caste. No, that was not enough. Winning over Hector was not enough. Blood had to be spilled.

_Watch me, Natasha_, Abby snarled as she connected all weapons to her primary trigger. _Watch me and be awed_…

Her missiles sailed uncontested toward Hector's crushed gyro, followed by her laser beams straight into the engines. The _Adder_ roared into a fireball. Burning debris rained down on the field for a few minutes, and the charred heap of metal flickered for a long time, long after Abby tottered back to the hangar.

Was this enough to convince Natasha Kerensky? Abby tried to gauge her reaction, but the smoke from Hector's _Adder _blew the chance of her taking a quick glance at the Black Widow. The only opportunity lasted only several seconds, and Natasha was as ice-cold as ever. But even as it came down as a let down, Abby knew she made a statement today. There was no way Natasha didn't recognize her cunning, ferocity, and skill in combat.

This was her stage.


	19. Chapter 18

**Chapter XVIII**

_**Tranquil, Kerensky Cluster,  
><strong>__**May 14, 3051**_

"You killed Hector!"

Abby knew Hector's demise in her hands wouldn't agree with Darien, and she expected him to react sharply toward the incident. She knew she would have to endure his fiery stare, his offensive body language, and his sharp tongue that struck her ego like a barb wire. Many times during his tirade she found legitimate reasons to challenge him in a Circle of Equal, but she restrained herself from damaging her trial. If she had to beat Darien up, she wanted to do it in front of Natasha Kerensky.

"You are 20 years old, Darien," Abby said unenthusiastically. "You have been in this program for more than a third of your age. How come you are still not set in the way of the Clan?"

"We are not the _stravag_ Jade Falcons…"

"And we are not the _stravag_ Ghost Bears! Compassion makes you weak!"

"You had him, Abby!" Darien roared. His fingers clasped so hard his knuckles turned white. "You had him under your guns, and all you had to do was to declare victory! You did not have to kill him!"

"Hector is weak!" Abby returned his fire. "There is no place for the weak in Wolf touman!"

"Hector is your friend!" Darien screamed. "Have you forgotten him? Have you forgotten his eagerness to take the bullet for you? Have you forgotten what he did when Cadet Dirk attacked you? Hector is your friend, you damn _freebirth_! What audacity do you think you have to kill your own sibkin?"

Darien didn't throw the word _freebirth_ as profusely as many other Clanfolks, but he used it at the worst time to inflict the most obscene insult possible. Abby had maintained her cool throughout their argument, but being called _freebirth_ destroyed her inhibition. She didn't care about her trial anymore. Darien would have to pay for his insult.

"Step into the Circle of Equals, Darien!" she growled, taking a fighting stance. "It is time for you to back up your nonsense!"

Instead, Darien stayed motionless. "I would fight you, Abby, if you so much believed that killing Hector is a necessary cause for the Wolf Clan. By Kerensky's blood, I would challenge your principles with all my Warden beliefs. But you do not care about principles and beliefs. All you want is your name on the Remembrance and your gene in the gene pool. You killed Hector to build your reputation as the best mechwarrior ever produced by Wolf program!"

"And you cite Warden and Crusader philosophies but you know nothing about it!" Abby hurled her own tirade. "You know full well that Hector was a Crusader. Yet you never challenged his beliefs. You treated him like your soft, weak Warden friends and _coffin mates_! You should have cherished his death, but instead you throw this philosophical trash at me! Is this hypocrisy I am sensing, Darien? Is this _freebirth's_ cowardice you start to get comfortable in? Have you turned into a coward to defend yourself in the Circle of Equals?"

Darien shook his head. "What happened to you, Abby?"

Abby snorted. "I grow up. You should, too."

"I will not fight you now," Darien turned his back at her. "We will meet on the battlefield tomorrow for our final Trial of Position. I will not jeopardize your chance to win."

"My chance?" Abby sniggered curtly. "Do you think it is hard for me to beat you?"

"Neg," Darien turned. "But I lost two friends today. I have nothing left to fight for. You, you have someone to impress. You need all your strength to finish your trial."

Abby lowered her guard, shooting a derogatory smile at Darien. "You are pathetic, Darien. You are one pathetic coward."

Darien's eyes flared, and he started to make a move toward Abby, probably losing all control and getting ready for Abby's Circle of Equals. But he stopped, stepped backward, and turned his back on Abby again. "I have nothing else to say. I will see you tomorrow."

"Seyla," Abby grunted. "Tomorrow, Darien. We end this tomorrow."

* * *

><p>The argument took place at the back of a mess hall, so Marissa heard every single word. She didn't know much about Abby except that fight with Cadet Dirk, the day she met Darien. She remembered Abby's relentless and aggressive nature, and it disturbed her that Darien had to fight Abby in a bad state of mind. Abby obviously had no remorse; Darien, un-Clan-likely, was shaken up by the loss of his good friend in the hands of his other good friend. Abby had a good advantage over Darien if he couldn't get his mind set up.<p>

The door blasted open and Darien stormed across the mess hall, straight to the exit. Some other Clanfolks heard some dribs and drabs about the argument, but nobody cared to follow the entire story. Marissa sprinted toward the exit door and followed Darien outside, but even running was barely enough to keep up with Darien who walked at a cyclone speed.

"Darien! Darien, stop!" Marissa yelled between her gasps.

"Go away, Marissa. This is nothing of your concern," Darien spat without even looking back.

"It is everything of my concern!" Marissa managed to seize his arm. "I would hate it to see you get killed by Abby!"

That comment stole his attention. He turned around, grabbed Marissa by the arm, and stabbed her eyes with his fiery stare. "Are you questioning my skill? Do you think I will share the same fate with Hector? You wait and see, _freebirth_! I will kill that pompous little _surat_!"

As painful as it was being addressed with _freebirth_ by the only one that made her life worthwile, Marissa knew that Darien was not himself. He was grieving, but he didn't know how to. Clan culture didn't teach its warriors how to deal with strong emotion. Anguish, rage, pain, all were transformed into bloodlust. Darien didn't mean every single word he said to Marissa. He was just doing the only thing he know about losing his friend.

"You will not kill anybody if you do not stay focus!" Marissa slapped his arms, freeing hers from his grip. "Your judgment is clouded by vengeance! I know this, and Abby knows this. She has nothing to be sorry for, and she will take advantage of your condition."

"What do you care about the trial?"

"I care because of you!" Marissa's scream started to get attention from several Clanners. But she didn't care. "You are the smartest among your sibkins, so use your head! Have you ever thought that Abby killed Hector to disrupt you? Abby is smart, Darien! She knows she needs more than her skill, her tenacity, and her luck to beat you in the trial! He needs you to not using your brain, and she knows that killing Hector was the easiest way to rob you off your concentration! So stop whining like a little kid and start acting like a mechwarrior you are made to be!"

Darien didn't expect to get an earful from Marissa. He stood dumbfounded, shooting a blank stare at Marissa who was gasping for air from running and launching her tirade. But Marissa's bold conjecture about Abby killing Hector stopped him dead cold. He never thought of it as Abby's strategy. Abby was smart, he would give her that, but not so diabolically smart that she would waste a good friend to beat another. It was too much to believe. But who knows? Abby had changed so much he barely knew her anymore.

"Look, Darien, I know Hector was your good friend, but he was gone," Marissa continued. "There is nothing you can do to bring him back. This mental state of yours will not bring him back. It will only hurt you. So snap out of it. Think of your strategy to come out at the top of your Trial of Position. It is the only way you can make Hector's death worthwile."

At 5-foot-7, Marissa was dwarfed even by Darien who was just 6-foot-tall. So when Darien made a brusque dash at her, she thought he would eat her. But against her expectation, Darien pulled her hard against him, grabbed her hair, then kissed her. It was hot, rough, and hard, but Marissa could feel every bit of emotion he battled himself to get rid off. It felt as if Darien was channeling everything he was feeling to her.

Marissa writhed and pushed him as hard as she could. He kissed her in public, and there was a good chance Benten saw them. She couldn't even imagine the pain that miserable aerojock would inflict upon her if he saw her kissing another guy. But Darien held her like a rusty lock, and his kiss – although had no finesse whatsoever – was honest. It was the first time she felt – _felt_ – being treated as a Clanner's equal.

And the truth was: she wanted it.

So she stopped her struggle and let him kiss her as long as he wanted.


	20. Chapter 19

**Chapter XIX**

_**Battlemech Training Ground,  
><strong>__**Tranquil, Kerensky Cluster,  
><strong>__**May 15, 3051**_

The soft hum the _Mist Lynx Prime_ running idle in the hangar couldn't take away Abby's nerves in the slightest. The blinking console, music to her ears on any normal day, made her head spinning, a rare treat that she had not experienced since the first day she rode a battlemech. The familiar smell of coolant and lubricant made her stomach churned. The cramped cockpit that had been her home for several years felt like crashing down on her, so much she was on the verge of climbing out of her mech for air.

Abby had never been this restless.

The last day of her Trial of Position brought so much pressure on her that she didn't sleep all night. She spent hours after hours refining her skill and shooting accuracy, but nothing felt good enough because she was to fight Darien. Darien, who had a knack of finding a weak spot in any defense. Darien, who was wildly, un-Clan-likely unpredictable in combat. Darien, who was severely hurt by the death of his childhood friend Hector, and –he never said he would, but it was obvious from his body language – was out to hunt for her blood.

As she walked her _Mist Lynx_ out of the hangar, Abby started to doubt her decision to kill Hector. It was a good opportunity to shine at that time, and she seized it without much reckoning. But it still didn't give Natasha Kerensky the impression that she craved so much. None. Nothing. And it gave Darien a reason to put all the stops to beat her. She might have just put herself on a corner, and the only way out was to win this fight in a spectacular fashion. Losing was not an option.

Abby scoffed as she parked her mech right in front of the _Kit Fox B_. Its large-bored UAC10 was trained at her, ready to deliver a knock-out punch at the very start of the battle. _But wait!_ Darien never drew first blood. He usually let his enemy attack first, analyze its strength and weakness, find its weak spot, then drill it. Darien _thinks_ too much. So what was he thinking now? What was he thinking? What was he thinking? What was…

Abby was still spinning her head when the fight started, and the _Kit Fox_ jumped right at her. Its massive UAC10 flashed furiously, spitting cannon shells at her lower torso. Caught in a hailstorm, Abby slammed her joystick to the right. Her reflex saved her and her mech; half of the shells tore into the meaty armor of the _Mist Lynx's_ center torso, the rest just ripped the ground behind her. But Darien wasn't finished. His dumbfire missiles raced toward Abby's center torso again. It took a lot of her to twist and dodge all but one missile.

_What the hell is this? Darien never drew first blood! _The fight was not a minute old and he already sank in two killing blows at Abby. Lucky for her the armor stopped the attacks, but if he kept up, she would not stand much longer. Why? Why was he doing it? What was he thinking? Abby tried to decipher Darien's strategy, but Darien didn't give her much time to think. His lasers zipped close to her cockpit.

_Darien was consumed by emotion from the loss of Hector?_

Abby could almost smile at the thought. _Darien was consumed by emotion?_ That was highly unlikely. He was a trueborn. He was trained in Wolf Clan best training regimen so his emotion would not interfere with his judgment in combat. But today, he sure acted that way. He rushed to finish the fight. And come to think of it, he looked utterly messy yesterday, when he confronted Abby about Hector. He didn't deny that he acted out of compassion to help out a bondsman. And compassion made him weak. He was not the same Darien that Abby had been worried so much about.

Smiling, Abby fired missiles in retaliation. Half of the missiles sailed past Darien's cockpit, the rest smashed into his shoulder. Burning ferro fibrous sprayed into a wide area as the _Kit Fox_ tottered backward. Abby waited until the _Kit Fox_ was steady on its legs, then burnt another slab of armor with her lasers. Orange-hued smelter dribbled down the _Kit Fox's_ left side.

The _Kit Fox_ staggered, fighting for control, then launched its counterattack. Missiles flew in a wide arc, and despite Abby's best effort, two hammered her leg. Darien followed up with his lasers and autocannon, but Abby anticipated this maneuver. She jetted up right before Darien fired his remaining weapons at her leg. His shells exploded on the grass, tossing dirt and pebbles up into a cloud of debris, while his lasers burnt pockmarks on the ground.

Gliding down gracefully, Abby took a hard lock on the Kit Fox's damaged left torso. Abby had been training herself to take this kind of shot hundreds of times. She never missed. Her lasers turned Darien's torso armor into molten mess, and her missiles drove straight through the slag, right into the engine. A yellow fireball expanded from the torso core, searing off the _Kit Fox's_ left arm, and threw the 30-ton omnimech off its feet, pinning its UAC10-laden arm under its body.

If anything besides spectacular, it war rather anticlimactic. Darien sure gave Abby a scare early in the fight, when he abandon his trademark and went berserk. But his emotion got the best of him, and now he was at the mercy of Abby's alpha strike. Abby stole a quick glance at Natasha Kerensky who was observing the fight from the bleecher. No, still no visible reaction. She was as cold as ever. Abby moved her mech up, standing close to the squirming _Kit Fox_, and put her thumb in the alpha strike button, aiming at the smoking crater on its left torso.

If the Black Widow was still not impressed with this, Abby didn't know what would.

The _Mist Lynx_ trembled when all weapons blasted, and Abby expected to see fireworks at the other end. But in a miraculous twist the _Kit Fox_ shrank back and repotitioned itself in a defensive stance Abby would never see it coming. Her missiles smashed the ground and her lasers drilled the _Kit Fox's_ thick, unscratched center torso. Globules of molten armor sprayed into a large area, but none of her intended shots did what it was supposed to do.

And suddenly, Abby found herself standing in front of the _Kit Fox_ without any working weapon.

Tongues of fire burst from the UAC10 as it spat armor-piercing shells. Abby groaned as her mech quivered, sustaining the impact force of the shells. Each blow echoed twofold in the cockpit, and it felt like she was going deaf. Missiles came a second later, and her console screamed, telling her that she could not have another hit on the lower center torso.

_Stravag! Stravag! Stravag! _Abby hated it to have to move, especially how close she was to victory. Her weapons were almost ready, and she wanted to trade shots with Darien. But her logic dictated that she didn't have a choice. Darien's last attack shredded her front armor so badly that he could immobilize the _Mist Lynx_ with a well-placed Hawk Eagle shot. She couldn't risk it, not when the stake was her future. Losing was not an option. So she hit her jump jets and flew sideways, away from the _Kit Fox's_ line of fire.

But her eyes widened with horror upon seeing Darien breaking into a sprint toward her rear flank. She landed smoothly, all guns were ready, but Darien was outside her firing arc. She couldn't shoot him. She twisted as far as her gyro allowed her to, and watched haplessly as Darien's UAC10 flashed again. A large chunk of structure blasted from the _Mist Lynx_ lower abs. Abby moaned as she yanked her joysticks back, pushing the myomers on her legs to hold the mech upright. Smoke seeped into the cockpit, and it smelled trouble.

Desperate for a clear firing solution, Abby jettisoned her missile tubes and connected the extra power from her SRMs to her myomers. She needed the extra speed, especially against a good runner like Darien. She powered up her reactor to maximum, then swung left full speed. Darien was not there. He turned the other direction, repositioning himself outside Abby's firing arc at the exact opposite end. His missiles came crashing down like a tidal wave on Abby's lower torso. This time, the _Mist Lynx_ gave up. The legs snapped free, and the _Mist Lynx's_ body crashed to the ground without any support.

Lying on the ground, Abby could only see the drab sky as Darien marched closer, aligning his autocannon to her cockpit. She stared directly into the darkness of the hole, waiting for the flash that would end everything, but it never came. Of course it would never come. Darien would not kill her. He never changed. Even when consumed by emotion, he was still the old, compassionate, borderline _freebirth_ sibkin…

_Consumed by emotion?_

Abby guffawed, laughing at her own naivete. Darien was never consumed by emotion. _Darien never drew first blood_. That outburst at the beginning of the fight? He was testing her reaction under pressure. He was not trying to end the fight quickly. He was mapping out her maneuvers. With all her piloting style under his control, he put her in a game that she had no chance of winning. That was Darien's plan from the start, and Abby flat-out failed to see it.

_Stravag!_ That was all Abby could say.

The _Kit Fox_ stepped back, leaving the _Mist Lynx_ to walk by the bleecher, and raised its right arm. Darien's voice came loud and clear from the external speaker, "I, Darien of the Wolf, claim my victory against my opponent, Abby of the Wolf!" Abby singled out Natasha Kerensky to see her reaction, and her heart stopped beating, seeing the only thing she craved so badly slipped right in front of her eyes…

The Black Widow smiled.


	21. Chapter 20

**Chapter XX**

_**Tranquil, Kerensky Cluster,  
><strong>__**May 16, 3051**_

Abby had longed for this day a long time, standing in front of the great Star Colonel Natasha Kerensky, dressed in full military attributes, waiting for the result of her Trial of Position and her new unit. She never imagined, though, that she would do all that as the second best cadet of her sibko. She always imagined herself to be at the top of the heap.

Now she dreaded that she did not even qualify for the warrior's caste.

"First of all, congratulations on your Trial of Positions," Natasha started the briefing by the good news, making Abby exhaled in huge relief. "You are the two best cadets of your sibko, you have endured 20 years of hard training, and you have showed unimaginable toughness by staying alive in the program until the very end, while others quit, slipped to lower castes, or died. From this point on, you are adopted into Wolf's warrior caste. You are mechwarriors."

Then Natasha delivered the news that had haunted Abby since her loss. "Mechwarrior Abby of the Wolf, you showed skill and grit rarely seen in Wolf Touman. You dominated the program for 3 years as the best all-round cadet of your sibko. Your skill will be useful for the Dorbeng Garrison Cluster, Epsilon Galaxy at New Oslo. We are having trouble with local Inner Sphere resistance and mercenary barbarians. You will ship out in a week. You will report to Star Captain Oleg. He is a great leader. You can learn a lot from him."

Natasha turned to Darien. "Mechwarrior Darien of the Wolf, nothing can be said enough about your exceptional performance. Welcome to the 13th Wolf Guards! You come with me to regroup with the rest of the Wolf Guards at Satalice. Operation Revival will continue, and we will spearhead the Wolf Clan toward Terra."

Abby felt like the sky just fell upon her. Dorbeng Garrison Cluster? Epsilon Galaxy? That was a second-line unit. That was not what she envisioned her life would be. That was not a fair assessment of her true skill. That was a disgrace in her own world.

"Wait, wait, Ovkhan," Abby tried to buy out her assignment. "I am the best cadet in my sibko! I work harder than anybody else. You can confirm it with the trainers and technicians that had to stay late to accompany me in the simulator and battlemech training ground. I hold the most kill score among my sibko! I belong in the front line, Ovkhan, and I am ready to shed my blood for the glory of the Wolf Clan!"

"I believe you, Abby," Natasha replied. "I believe everything you said. You're just not what I'm looking for as a member of the 13th Wolf Guards."

"Ovkhan, that is absurd!" Abby snarled. Natasha's use of _freebirth's_ contraction aggravated her to no end, and she lost her inhibition. "You may not like me to join your unit, but you cannot assign me a garrison duty! I do not belong in a second line unit!"

"Are you questioning my decision, Mechwarrior?" Natasha came back with flame in her eyes. Even though Abby towered over the old mechwarrior, her intensity made Abby shrink. "Do you want to solve this in the Circle of Equals?"

That was a death sentence for her career, and Abby knew it. She knew her place, and she knew the consequences of challenging somebody far up in rank, especially a bloodnamed war hero like Natasha Kerensky. "Neg, Ovkhan," she stepped down wisely. "Your decision will stand."

"My decision stands," Natasha grunted, showing a little displease. "Then you have your orders. Dismiss, Mechwarriors. Make the Wolf proud."

Natasha turned around and exited the briefing room, leaving the two new mechwarriors standing like a couple of statues. Abby turned to Darien, shooting biles from her eyes. "How dare you!" she hissed. "You know I work hard for a place in the 13th Wolf Guards! You know how much this means to me! How dare you to take it away from me! I thought you were my friend!"

"I am your friend, and I did think of taking a dive in our trial so you get the spot," Darien replied, burdened with regret. "But you tried to kill me, just like you killed Hector."

And it was when Abby realized that she brought everything upon herself. If only she didn't kill Hector, if only she didn't hit that alpha strike button, if only she was not overly aggressive chasing her dream…

"Well, then, congratulations," she said sarcastically. "I wish you a long and prosper life with the 13th."

It was a calculated insult, for Clan culture glorified short lives and deaths in the heat of battles. Wishing Darien a long life was the same as wishing him to be a _solahma_.

"I wish we could end this in a different way," Darien sighed morosely. "Good luck to you."

"Goodbye, Darien," Abby replied with a snort, then rushed to leave the room. She realized it was probably the last time they would see each other. Darien would go with the 13th to make a glorious dive toward Terra, the sacred origin of humanity, while she would be stranded in an obscure world called New Oslo, fighting local pests and mercenary. He would be busy chasing grandeur, while she would spend the rest of her life virtually unnoticed. There was little chance, if any, that they would cross path again in the future.

But nothing could be said or done. It was the end of their sibko days. Darien was gone, just as Hector, and although it was not the way she envisioned her life would be, she could consider herself fortunate that Natasha Kerensky didn't dump her on the merchant or laborer castes. She was still a mechwarrior, and maybe, just maybe, if fate favored her, her sacrifice would be noted in a few lines of the Remembrance, and her genetic material would be a testament of her accomplishment for years to come.

* * *

><p>For Marissa, Darien's admittance into the 13th Wolf Guards was bittersweet news. She cared about him, and she was happy for him to receive the recognition by one of the most respected Wolf military leader in the Clan's history. But it also meant he would be transferred out of Tranquil to join the rest of the team. He promised her deliverance, and somehow she knew Darien would abandon his promise. She always knew that the good things between them would come to a premature end.<p>

"So I will have to ship out to regroup with the rest of the team," Darien said, just like Marissa expected. "The Clan council had renewed Operation Revival, and the 13th Wolf Guards will be the dagger point for Wolf's renewed invasion. I will have to leave you for an indefinite period."

Marissa didn't answer. She had been living among Clanners for a long time, too long to notice that glory and honor were the most important aspects of their lives. She was naïve to think that everything would be different with Darien, that he would behave like a Spheroid. He did - within some boundaries – but still he was a Clanner. There were fundamentals that he wouldn't cross.

"You did not say anything," Darien muttered.

"What is it left to be said?" Marissa replied, fighting to steady up her shaky voice. "You are a part of an elite cluster now. It is your duty to carry the banner of the Wolf Clan. You cannot deny it. It is what you are made for. It is what you are."

Darien caught the unspoken animosity in her words, despite her best effort to hide it. "I wish we could finish our plan before this happens."

"That is alright, Darien, I understand," Marissa strained to smile. "The Gamma Galaxy will be deployed at Maestu. More likely than not Benten will take me to Maestu, although I think he will be busy with the invasion. Do not worry; I will survive."

"We are going deeper into Inner Sphere territory," Darien said in a more serious tone. "We are systematically wiping out Inner Sphere best military units. You will be taking part of it. How do you feel about it?"

"About what? About Clanners kicking Spheroid's butts?" Marissa gave him a shrug. "I was never a true Spheroid. I was a pirate, remember? Pirates do not have a fixed place in any society. Pirates lived by their own rules. I had not belonged to any successor state since I was seven. That part died long time ago."

"I have been trying to make the Wolf Clan as your home," Darien dipped his head into his chest. "I am at fault that we have not there yet. I wish we had more time."

Marissa bit her lips. "You have no idea how much you have done for me." She rested her head on Darien's wide shoulder. Then little by little she raised her head, wrapped her arms around his neck, and gave him a kiss.

"What is that for?" Darien stiffened.

"For good luck," Marissa offered him a smile. "You will need it." She kissed him again, warmer and longer this time. "That is a congratulation from me for making it to the warrior's caste and the 13th Wolf Guards. A very rare accomplishment." Then she pulled his head down. "And this is for making me feel like a human being." She locked her arms behind his neck, then savaged his lips with her own.

Darien was taken aback by the ferocity of her desire, but only for a little while. When he got his composure back, he matched her thirst, kiss by kiss, embrace by embrace, thrust by thrust. And when their bodies interwove in passion, the world evaporated around them. Nothing was important anymore, not the Inner Sphere invasion, not Natasha Kerensky, not Benten.

And the night had no end in sight.


	22. Interlude

**INTERLUDE**

**Note**: I originally plan to have 20 chapters of this story which ends at this point. However, seeing how much fun I had writing this and how much fun some readers had with this story, I may continue writing. I put a momentary stop here so I can finish up **I, Kere4sky** and think about the way I can continue this one in an equally fun way. In the mean time, this interlude serves as a "preview" of what waits for Abby and Marissa in the next segment of **Honor, Valor, Ambition, and The Way of The Clan**. Watch for it in the fall!

* * *

><p><em><strong>Harlech, Outreach,<br>**__**Federated Commonwealth,  
><strong>__**October 4, 3051**_

Prince Edgar Riksföreståndare hardly ever felt dejected.

Since he was 5 years old, the day he started ruling New Oslo Protectrorate (with his uncles as the advisors, of course), all he wanted was virtually shoved it up under his nose. _Edgar gets_, a moniker he gladly indulged himself in, was a common mockery among peer dignitaries in the Free Rasalhague Republic. He had to get anything he wanted, and rejection would meet with his utmost wrath.

Then came the Clans, the descendants of Alexander Kerensky and his cursed Exodus, and took away everything. The Clan moved in blinding-fast fashion, using weapons unseen for hundreds of years. His proud army, 1st New Oslo Armored GKT Volunteers, fell on its knees within days of the Clan's arrival, and his uncle went down with it. Edgar and a few of his entourage escaped off world, leaving the majority of his government agents at the mercy of the Clanners.

And suddenly, Edgar was homeless. Rich, but homeless nonetheless. All attempts to hire top-ranked mercenaries fell apart since Hanse Davion, arguably the strongest man in the Inner Sphere, had hired them all. He had to settle with smaller, second-rated, rag-tag mercenaries who were more show than go. And here he was, sitting in a loud musky tavern, drinking cheap beer with three hired soldiers that bore no resemblance to his old 'elite' GKT Volunteers whatsoever.

"We are the Cobra Kai mercenary unit," one of them, significantly older than the other two, went through the litany of the unit's achievements. "_No mercy, no galaxy_, that's our motto. I'm Major Marcell Kreese, founder and CO of the Cobra Kai. I'm a veteran of three wars: 3rd and 4th Succession Wars, and the War of 3039. I've worked for all Succession Houses with the Cobra Kai. You from FRR? I've worked with Ragnar Magnusson on several missions at Lyran borders. Cheap little bastard! I worked with Nondi Steiner against the FRR a couple years back. No offense, but I like the Steiners better. They pay good."

"Cobra Kai," Edgar sniggered. "Sounds like something coming out of a cheap 20th Century entertainment."

"Call us what you like, but my resume strongly suggests that all my customers were satisfied with the Cobra Kai service," Kreese snarled. "You may think working with the Kell Hounds or Wolf Dragoons would be your best option, but they'll drain your bank account long before they finish their missions. If you're looking for a dependable unit that fits your budget, which I reckon not very much based on my experience working with Ragnar Magnusson, you'll want to stick with the Cobra Kai."

No matter how hard Edgar tried to deny it, he knew it was the truth. Not that he had many choices anyway.

"This tigress here is Captain Aviva LaRusso, my second-in-command and CO of the second company," Kreese pointed to a red-haired woman on his right. "Her dossier is no less shiny than mine. She led a company of FedCom light mechs to strike a Capellan firebase at Capricorn III. She destroyed 2 companies of Capellan armors in exchange of 3 casualties. On my left is Sergeant Zack Mackenzie. Quite young, but stings hard."

"I am and always be a Davion partisan," Zack added. "I graduated from War College of Goshen but chose the path of mercenary instead of being transferred to a FedSun unit. I specialize in counter-Capellan and counter-Draconis engagement. Read my dossier; my kill scores are not lying."

"You can brag about Lyran, FedCom, Capellan, Draconis, Free Worlds, or even FRR all you want, but nothing will help you to get my home back," Edgar hissed impatiently. "These Wolves… these Wolf Clan warriors as they called themselves… they are nothing like you've ever seen before. They're fast, unbelievably fast, and they can shoot like nobody's business. My GKT Volunteers could take on the best regiment the Inner Sphere had to offer, but they could only stand several days before they buckled under the Wolves."

"On the contrary, the Clans are stupid," Zack interjected. "They're fast and they hit very hard, that's true, but they have this stupid honor restriction that they religiously apply at every combat. They will not shoot your head, your weapons, or your legs. They will not gang up on you. They will not attack you before they state their intention and the weight of the force they're bringing in for the battle. And they never lie. We don't have those restrictions. We couldn't deal with them because they were good at what they do. But now that we know their Achilles heels, they're doomed."

"We'll get your home back, Prince Edgar," Kreese assured him. "Just laid down 30-percent of the total contract cost as a downpayment plus logistics, weapons and ammunitions, and we're good to go."

"Well then, you and your confidence had just found you another employer," Edgar was bought. "If your dossiers tell the truth, if everything you said was true, then you should not have any problem taking back New Oslo from the Clan animals."

"With the right price, my Prince," Kreese leaned back and took a large swig of his beer, "with the right price. Now, let's talk about it before we all get carried away with the Clan slayings."

* * *

><p><em><strong>Halbergson's Pass,<br>**__**Satalice, Free Rasalhague Republic,  
><strong>__**December 4, 3051**_

Star Commander Molaram woke up only to find an excutiating pain gnawing at his left leg. His eyes, fluttering open ten seconds ago, went back shut. A sharp groan excaped his lips, contorted so hard he thought he ripped his mouth apart. His hands gripped his harness involuntarily. Taking control of his body, he glanced down and saw his leg mangled into three parts by the left frame of his _Sulla Prime_ omnifighter. There was no breaking skin, but the way his leg turned into a 3-part black-and-blue _san setsu kon_ told him that he had lost the leg. If - and this was a big if - he made it out of this situation, he was looking for a prosthetic replacement.

Half an hour ago Molaram's squadron was ordered to provide aerial support for Star Captain Ranna's trinary of the 13th Wolf Guards. The 3rd Drakons had been mauling the trinary all day long, and although Ranna pulled off miracles after miracles against the Drakons, her troops began to fatigue and get low on ammunition. Natasha Kerensky's command trinary was an hour away to provide relieve, so Molaram's squadron was deployed to help Ranna until Natasha's trinary arrived.

But it was not Molaram's day. Ten minutes into combat, a Drakons _Rifleman_ scored a perfect salvo at his _Sulla_. His wings were ripped apart and his fuselage was busted by autocannon rounds. Molaram managed to pull evasive maneuver and glided savely for an emergency land before his wings broke off. His _Sulla_ crashed on its left side, and the frame bent so far it crushed his left leg into 3 parts.

Fighting the biting pain, Molaram inspected his radar. Two humanoid light mechs were racing toward his position. Entering 700 meters, his computer recognized them as _Javelins_, 30-ton Inner Sphere missile boats with twin SRM6s. And as if they were not strong enough against a downed aerosfighter, a 60-ton _Rifleman_ followed the two _Javelins. _It was the same _Rifleman_ that shot Molaram down. Clearly it was going to finish its job.

"Sierra-Two-Five, this is Zulu Three," Molaram called for his unit. "I am shot down. Location: unknown. Three barbarian battlemechs are closing in on my position. I am initiating self-destruct sequence. Avenge me, my _trothkins_. Crush these barbarians under our claws. Reclaim our birthright. Retake Terra from these _freebirths_."

Molaram started to engage a self-destruct sequence when his comset blinked. Somebody was trying to hail him. He put his headset back and engaged the frequency, and a friendly voice sprang on his comset like a drop of water on a desert. "Zulu Three, this is Tango-Alpha. What is your coordinate?"

Tango Alpha was Ranna's trinary designation. Molaram realized the danger Ranna would face if she tried to save him. "Neg, Tango Alpha, do not come for me," he said, watching the two _Javelins_ came into 500-meter range. "This place is crawling with _freebirths_. I am initiating self destruct sequence. I will be gone in less than one min…"

Before his sentence was finished, a long blue streak of energy zipped over his head, hammering the closest _Javelin_ dead center. The light mech lurched forward, swinging its arms comically, trying to keep standing. The other _Javelin_ and the _Rifleman_ slowed down their advance to an almost complete stop, as if they were seeing a ghost.

"Tango Alpha, this is Tango Two-Four," another voice came in as an _Ice Ferret_ jumped over the downed _Sulla_ and charged the closest _Javelin_. "I found Zulu Three. Engaging enemy units!"

The _Javelin_, regaining balance, started to turn away from the _Ice Ferret_ but another solid PPC shot stopped it from its track. The particle charge fried all electronics. The _Ice Ferret_ sprinted full speed, closing the gap with the stunned _Javelin_ with remarkable speed. Missiles and laser swarmed the _Javelin_, ripping the damaged front armor and ignited the missiles. The _Javelin_ roared; limbs flew in every direction, tongues of fire and debris blended together in a black, oily cloud.

Although superior in number and tonnage, the other _Javelin_ and _Rifleman_ chose not to challenge the _Ice Ferret's_ domination. They turned their backs and left the area. The _Ice Ferret_ turned around and parked next to the downed _Sulla_. The mechwarrior climbed down his mech and inspected the left side of the _Sulla_. He stripped his neurohelmet, revealing a rugged face with dark brown hair with Mohawk haircut.

"Mechwarrior Darien, 13th Wolf Guards, at your service," he nodded courteously upon seeing Molaram's wing and rank star on his jumpsuit. "Can you walk?"

"Neg," Molaram grimaced. "My left leg is gone. Just leave me. You have done enough."

"I will have to carry you up to my mech," Darien ignored Molaram's plea as he pulled the bent frame, freeing Molaram's pinned leg. "It will sting a bit, but you will get out of here alive."

With one swift haul, Darien pulled Molaram out of the wreck and put him on his shoulder. Molaram cried out in pain, and he thought he was about to pass out, but he staggered to stay awake. His pride would not let him look weak, especially in front of the guy he was supposed to help.

Darien climbed back to his cockpit as fast as he could and lied Molaram down behind his command couch. The cockpit was cramped, but Molaram's small frame enabled him to fit on the tight spot behind the seat. Darien put on his neurohelmet and latched on to the trinary's frequency. "Tango Alpha, this is Tango Two-Four. Zulu Three is retrieved. Probable internal damage on the leg, but otherwise up and well. The Drakons are coming back with a vengeance: two full lances of battlemechs with a mix of _Phoenix Hawks_, _Hunchbacks_, _JaggerMechs_, and a _Rifleman_."

"Destroy the aerofighter and follow Halbergson's Pass," Ranna's voice came loud and clear. "Make sure the barbarians are following you. We will claw them to bits at the end of the pass."

Smiling, Darien thumbed his trigger, sending a stream of charged particles at the damaged _Sulla_. As the omnifighter went up in flames, he turned to Molaram, "Do you want to see fireworks?"

Molaram returned the smile. "Just make sure you get the _Rifleman_." He put his hand on Darien's shoulder. "Thank you, Mechwarrior. When this is all over, I will make it up to you."

Darien grinned from ear to ear. "I may need your help. When this is all over, I will tell you about it."

"Anything at all, Wolf-kin," Molaram tapped his shoulder again. "Anything at all."

* * *

><p><em><strong>Antares, Jade Falcon Occupation Zone,<br>**__**January 28, 3052**_

Star Commander Benten observed the yellowish green soil of Antares from the canopy of his _Jagatai Prime_ omnifighter, flying low on the surface of the planet. Whatever grew on the surface didn't look very appealing, and Benten made a mental note to be extremely careful, especially since Jade Falcon mechs were reported to patrol this area.

It may not be a wise decision to invade Antares, a planet in the Jade Falcon occupation zone. Operation Revival was in full swing, and most of Wolf troops were deployed to take numerous worlds from the Inner Sphere. Going back to ransack a Jade Falcon's Occupation Zone seemed pointless. But for Benten, he needed it. He had been in Wolf Touman for some time without a change in ranks or chance to get a bloodname. His career was at stagnation, and if he didn't take a drastic change, soon enough he would enter the phase of a _solahma_. He needed one dazzling victory over an extremely difficult opponent in an extremely difficult situation to jumpstart his career. And the Jade Falcon seemed to provide everything, here at Antares.

As he glided over the vast plain of Antares, looking for Jade Falcon war machines, his comset blinked. He established comlink, and sure enough, the Jade Falcons tried to hail him.

"This is Star Captain Tyrine McCaig of the Jade Falcon," a curt, sharp voice of a woman stung his ears. "Who do you think you are _freebirth_, trying to trespass Jade Falcon territory? Has the Wolf lost its dignity that it stabs its own war compatriot? What is the meaning of this incursion?"

"This is Star Commander Benten of the Wolf. I challenge you, Star Captain Tyrine McCaig, in a Trial of Possession. I bid myself, my _Jagatai_, and three squadrons of omnifighters in this fight. Whoever wins this trial will get Antares!"

"You _stravag savashri_! You are lower than the Inner Sphere barbarians!" Tyrine's voice crescendoed. "The Jade Falcon won Antares from the _freebirths_! Find your own planet to conquer!"

"It looks to me that the Jade Falcons have been fattened by the comfort Antares has to offer," Benten taunted her. "Are you the right person to talk to, or should I ask for your supervisor?"

"You want blood? Fine! You will get blood! I bid two stars of battlemechs to the trial! Find me, Star Commander Benten! I am in my _Battlemaster IIC_! I will crush you under my talon!"

Benten smiled as he cut off his comlink. He took off to the sky, watching in satisfaction as his squadrons followed up behind him. He closed his eyes, snickering maliciously as images of a Jade Falcon bondswoman flashed at the back of his mind. He did have fun – great, _great_ fun – with Marissa, his submissive _freeborn_ bondswoman, but it was not enough. Imagine how a proud, defiant Jade Falcon bondswoman would make him!

"Stay close to me and do exactly as I say," he addressed his squadrons. "Let us hunt some Jade Falcons!"


	23. Chapter 21

**Chapter XXI**

_**Wolf Den Sierra-3325, New Oslo,  
><strong>__**Wolf Occupation Zone,  
><strong>__**June 3, 3051**_

Mechwarrior Abby of the Wolf exhaled a labored, exhausted, incensed sigh for the dozenth times as the shuttle shuddered home at the landing pad. The final turn proved to be the most intricate for the novice pilots – no older than the mechwarrior newbies the shuttle was carrying – they had to repeat the procedure five times. It was infuriating for the newbies that they had to spend an extra hour in the stuffy cabin while the pilots strived for the best approach to land the shuttle in a fancy manner.

But it was not entirely the pilots' to blame. Sierra-3325 was a firebase up in a mountain, surrounded by jagged-edged cliffs and rock formation. While it served as a natural barrier for aerospace attack, it also hindered shuttles and dropships to make a quick logistic stop. More experienced pilots might be able to pull it off in one sweep, but novices would have to struggle to find an opening and land their crafts.

The bay door opened, and cold air slapped Abby in the face. She bit her lips as she followed other newbies to exit the shuttle and formed a line in front of an officer, dressed in warm tunic. Abby tried to pull her trench coat out of her bag, but the officer started barking orders as soon as the first newbie touched the ground. So much for warm gear.

"Welcome to Wolf Den Sierra-3325!" the officer roared, a warm welcome for the new mechwarriors. "If you think your assignment is a disgrace to your career, you are sadly mistaken! Dorbeng Cluster is the first line of defense against the Inner Sphere barbarians, and Sierra-3325 is where hell is at! Make no mistake, whelps! You will fight hard, and you will die within a couple of months! Either you die in a blaze of glory or a puff in the wind, that is entirely up to you!"

Of course it was not true, and Abby had to swallow her smile. Dorbeng Garrison Cluster – the officer intentionally omitted the 'Garrison' – was just a logistic rear guard to protect Alshain Weapons, Bergan Industries, and GKT Enterprises from possible upraisings. The officer was just fueling morale of the new mechwarriors. Abby would be lucky if she could see action in two months time.

"I want your orders! Orders! Orders!" the officer barked and snatched the paperwork that each new mechwarrior carried. When he took Abby's, he read through the info, then shot a beffudled look at her. As much inconvenience as it could be, Abby didn't want to make a scene on her first day. Joining a garrison unit was derogating enough.

"Star Captain Oleg is on barrack A-2," he snarled. "Go! Report to him at once!"

Abby left the lineup and jogged to the designated building. She entered the empty barrack, and immediately went face to face with a large, rugged man, happily munching on some kind of fruit. The barrack reeked sweat and grime, but what else to be expected from a dozen of mechwarriors that spent the better part of the day sweating inside the cockpit?

"Star Captain Oleg?" Abby came to his presence. "Mechwarrior Abby of the Wolf. My order is to join your unit. I am here to serve, Ovkhan."

Oleg took the order, skim-read it in 5 seconds, then tossed it on a trash can. He grabbed his tunic - a long white coat made from thick ghost bear fur – and tossed it to Abby. He walked to the door and in a gentleman's gesture, he opened the door for her. "Walk with me," he said, then waited until Abby exited the barrack.

They took a long stroll toward a high point of the base. Abby snuggled comfortably inside the ghost bear's coat, and at the same time wondered how Oleg could stand such a dreadful cold without his tunic. But he was a large man, and she guessed that the fruit might have given him some kind of energy.

"We have a problem," Oleg said as they stopped, overlooking a vast plain with snowy white cover. "When the Green Keshik conquered New Oslo last year, they failed to put down the barbarians completely. Remnants of GKT Volunteers are still scattered over the plains, waging guerilla war against us. They are targeting our supplies in sporadic attacks. They are not organized, but all they need is a key figure that can unite them, then we will have a potential blow-out mess in our hands.

"This is Edgar Riksföreståndare," Oleg pulled out a photograph from his pocket. It was a picture of a young man dressed in royal robe and noble attributes. "He was the prince of New Oslo during Wolf's acquisition. The Green Keshik failed to capture him, and he is cowering somewhere under the thick of snow. We have to contain him before he reorganizes his GKT Volunteers to attack Sierra-3325.

"Follow me," Oleg said and quickly walked toward the hangar. Abby tagged him along until they arrived at a large hangar full of battlemechs. Oleg took her to a _Clint IIC_ on a corner. It was a far cry from a mech in combat-ready condition. Several techs were welding armor plates to the limbs, chattering like _surats_ as they worked leisurely. Myomer bundles and cables still dangled all over the place.

Somehow Abby felt that she would be stuck in that machine for a long time.

"Before you share your sour face with me, maybe you should reflect on why you are here in the first place," Oleg grimaced, catching Abby's change in attitude.

"Apologies, Ovkhan," Abby quickly shrank. "Sometimes my face speaks faster than my mouth."

"I do not care what kind of SNAFU unit Natasha Kerensky thinks the Dorbeng Garrison Cluster is, but it is a well-knit fighting force that has not failed Wolf Clan in its duties!" Oleg released his full fury. "Without us, New Oslo will fall back into the hands of the barbarians! My binary is a hunter-killer team. We go out to destroy the GKT Volunteers war cells before they get big enough to threaten Sierra-3325. Without my binary, Wolf Clan will need a much bigger force to keep New Oslo in order!

"And yes, Mechwarrior Abby, that _Clint IIC_ is yours for as long as you are in my binary, or until you find another one as an _isorla_! You will live, eat, sleep, and die carrying my order in that battlemech! Defy me and I make sure you meet the end of your career in Wolf Touman!"

"Understood, Ovkhan," Abby replied. "I live to serve the Wolf Clan."

"You have a good record as a sibby, Abby," Oleg muttered in a much lower tone. "You can be great. I can make you great if you show your dedication and determination to my binary." He threw another look at the _Clint IIC_ under repair, then faced Abby. "Dismiss. Meet me and the rest of the team at 1700 hours tomorrow. We are going hunting freebirths."

Abby drew a long breath, watching the towering _Clint IIC_ drapped in sparks from the electric welds. It was not a bad design on paper, sporting a large LBX-10 cannon and two medium lasers, along with a 100 kph maximum speed and jump jets. It was a perfect hunter-killer machine, far exceeding its Inner Sphere namesake.

It was just not an omnimech.

But it could have been worse, and for a moment she could breathe a small breath of relieve, knowing that she joined an active hunting team. It was not what she originally envisioned her life would be, but at least she wouldn't spend her time rolling her thumbs as she originally thought of a garrison duty. She would be constantly tested against guerilla warfare, something indigenous to Inner Sphere freebirths, and something she never learnt during her sibko training.

She didn't know if Natasha Kerensky planned everything to this minute detail, but if she did, then Abby made a mental note to thank Natasha when she met her again – if ever.


	24. Chapter 22

**Chapter XXII**

**Note**: This chapter contains graphic violence and disturbing images. Reader's discretion is advised.

* * *

><p><strong><em>CW <em>Blood Drinker_,  
><em>****_Wolf Clan _Black Lion_-Class Heavy Cruiser,  
><em>**_**Maestu Orbit, Wolf Occupation Zone,  
><strong>__**February 14, 3052**_

Marissa knew what was coming, and it would hurt. Bad.

She sat uncomfortably on a fitness bench with her hands tied behind her back, secured behind the backrest. Her legs were stretched on the bench as her ankles were roped tight onto the leg extension. The binds bit into her flesh, and any attempt to loosen up only burnt her skin more. And her bare feet were exposed, helpless, hapless at the mercy of her bondholder.

Star Commander Benten – naked and breathing hard - ran his electro-lash on the soles of her feet, teasing her plump toes, drawing forced giggles from Marissa. But she bit her lips in defiance as she refused to give him the satisfaction. There were times, good old times, when her feet were subjected to much love and affection from Seth, her pirate lover. But Marissa knew this was not one of those days. Benten's large eyes spilled only spite, staring at her like a vengeful beast looking forward to maul his prey.

Benten's electro-lash made a cruel whooping sound in the air, and a split second later Marissa felt a burning pain on her soles. It was not the first time Benten abused the sensitive spots on her feet, but this was the first time he did it using his electro-lash, and nothing prepared Marissa for what it felt. She could feel the strike up to her spine. Her toes scrunched, her body contorted, and her head snapped back, but there was only so much room to move. She dipped her head and ground her teeth to keep her from screaming, but a whimper still escaped her lips. Good thing the electro-lash was turned off and Benten only used it as a conventional whip.

Marissa didn't understand this. What did she do that deserved this treatment? She had been an apprehensive, borderline slave-like bondswoman to Benten. She was all but _obedient_ to Benten's deviant sexuality, hoping that one day he would consider her worthy of joining the Wolf Clan. But ever since his raid to Antares at Jade Falcon Occupation Zone ended up in total disaster, he had become more reclusive and violent toward her. He was 'crucified' in front of Wolf military council for bringing shame to Wolf Touman, and he channeled his frustration by treating her as a punching bag.

Worse yet, everything happened when Darien – her only source of strength within the Clan – was away.

A second strike mauled her toes, and Marissa's mouth gaped, silently screaming for mercy. Her knuckles felt like being pried by knives. But she held back. Nothing came out of her mouth. No, she would not give him the satisfaction. He wanted her to cry, to beg, to scream for release, but she would not give him what he wanted. There was still a lot of inhibition in her to remain dignified.

"Do you think you can go behind my back?" Benten growled menacingly. He traced a line on Marissa's sole, teasing her from her toes to her heel, making her quiver. "Do you think everything is a game that you can play with your barbarian trickery? Do you think you can outsmart me and get out of Wolf Clan easy? Do you, freebirth?"

"I have done nothing wrong, Ovkhan," Marissa replied, softly, but with all audacity she could muster.

"Nothing wrong? You dare to say you have done nothing wrong?" Benten hammered Marissa's feet as hard as he could. "I see you are enjoying the company of another man! Who is he? A mechwarrior? An elemental? A laborer? What do you see in him, freebirth? Does he enjoy your filthy stench? Does he suckle on your buds to make you tingle?"

Marissa knew sooner or later Benten would come to this. Too many people had seen her with Darien together at lunchtime like clockwork for more than a year. Some might have seen her at his Trial of Position performing _giri_ of a Japanese housewife for her warring husband. And some might have heard her cries of pleasure during her coupling with Darien. She never held back in the heat of passion, something she should've done to save herself (and her lover, be it Seth or Darien) from trouble, but she couldn't help nor want to even if she could. Maybe Benten heard her himself.

"He is nobody," she whispered, trying to protect Darien from possible disciplinary action by Benten. As far as she knew, Benten still outranked Darien, so he was still vulnerable. His 13th Wolf Guards membership meant nothing against a higher-ranked officer. "Only a lowlife like me. He is not worth your time."

"I will be the judge of that!" Benten roared. He grabbed Marissa's hair and twisted her neck, forcing her to look into his eyes. His face was flushed with rage. "You tell me his name, freebirth!"

"No!" Marissa bit her lips, knowing that the repercussion of her insolence would be extremely painful, and she had to face it alone. But she would not rat on Darien. She loved him. And what a woman would do in the name of love was unimaginable…

"_Surat!_" Benten spat and struck the balls of her feet. Hard. Harder than ever. This time, Marissa screamed. Her whole feet were on fire. Tears welled up on her eyes, and it was hard just to breathe. The pronges tore deep into the padding of her soles, so deep she thought her bones were broken. She might not be able to walk right anymore, let alone pilot a plane.

"I know what you are doing," Benten circled around her. "You are conspiring to kill me, _quiaff_? You are offering yourself to a _savashri_ that is willing to kill me! That is what you are doing, freebirth! You miserable little slut! Do you really think I am that stupid?"

"Neg, Ovkhan," Marissa sobbed with tears running down her face. "I do not think you are stupid. I never have. And I have not asked anybody to kill you. I want to do it myself."

"What? What did you just say?" Benten's eyes widened. He tried to grab Marissa's jaw, but it was slick with tears his grip kept slipping. "Do you dare to threaten me?"

"Neg, Ovkhan, it's not a threat," Marissa muttered, slipping into her Inner Sphere accent that she had been trying to erase. "It's a fact. If I have a chance, I'll kill you."

She knew she asked for punishment. And she knew she would not be able to handle it, nor she would recover from a beating like this. But how much worse could it get? Darien might never come back to her. She might have to endure Benten for the rest of her life. After this night, everything might be a walk in the park, if Benten kept her alive as he promised her he would.

_Please hold me, Papa_, she prayed solemnly as she braced for impact.

And Benten held nothing back. He unleashed hell, making sure every inch of her feet was covered with welts and blisters. Marissa cried with every strike, but kept her dignity intact. She never begged. She never divulged Darien's name. And she never showed any sign of submission, no matter how hard Benten struck her. She did, in fact, hope that Benten struck her head so she could die, and everything would be over. But Benten knew what to hit. He stayed on her feet the entire time, inflicting maximum pain with minimal threat to her life.

Only after Marissa lost her voice did he stopped and let her go.


	25. Chapter 23

**Chapter XXIII**

He who knows when he can fight and when he cannot, will be victorious  
>~ <em>The Art of War<em>

* * *

><p><em><strong>Sierra-3325 Corridor, New Oslo,<br>**__**Wolf Occupation Zone,  
><strong>__**April 30, 3052**_

Hunkering down her _Clint IIC_ behind a mound of snow-covered hill, Abby watched four drab shadows tiptoed in the vast plain at the slope of the mountain. Untrained, freeborn eyes wouldn't pick them up, but Abby's optically-enhanced eyesight could easily separate them from the white background. The shadows were battlemechs painted in white, the only logical choice to go stealth in a snow field, and although her passive radar couldn't pick up their signatures, Abby already knew their classes. She had them memorized, and she knew in a situation like this all knowledge about Inner Sphere technology would come in handy.

Two _Sentinels-3K_, mediocre 40-tonners at best, crept under the blanket of snow, while the other two _Jenners_ sandwiched them in a wedge formation. It was a rather funny formation, considering the Inner Sphere barbarians pushed the heavier _Sentinels_ as the forward scouts, and placed the lighter, faster _Jenners_ as the battery. But again, it was a logical move. The _Sentinel's_ class-5 autocannons had long reach but they were highly inaccurate. The _Jenner's_ quartet medium lasers, on the other hand, were extremely powerful. Combined with the incredible speed of 120 kph and 150-meter jump capability, the _Jenners_ were a force to be reckoned with.

"Whiskey Alpha, this is Whiskey Echo," Abby called her star commander. "Visual contact with enemy recon team: two _Sentinels_ 3K version, and two _Jenners_ D model, coming inbound bearing two-five-five at 500 meters. Speed: 35 kilos."

"Stand down Whiskey Echo," her star commander replied. "All points, maintain passive sensor, go weapons hot but wait for my mark. Let them walk all over us."

Abby was not interested in busting a recon unit, especially since her star had the advantage in all aspects: number, weight, range, and element of surprise. It felt almost like _dezgra_ to destroy them. But behind any scout unit lied a much bigger force, the kind of force that would hurt Wolf force at New Oslo, and it was not the time to play honor. Every single one of them had to perish before they could transmit any signal to their mother army. After all, these Inner Sphere insects did not deserve honor.

"Whiskey Star, be advised," the voice of Star Captain Oleg suddenly burst from the speaker. "Delta-Oscar-Three just detected a massive disturbance in the atmosphere. The barbarians are preparing something big. Proceed with caution. Do not… I repeat, _do not_ waste resources! Do you copy, Whiskey Alpha?"

"Aff, Ovkhan," Abby's star commander replied huskily, then did the exact opposite of Star Captain Oleg's direction. "All points! Destroy the freebirths! Fire! Fire! Fire!"

Abby didn't like this maneuver. Attacking the Spheroids would give up her position, thus alerting the Inner Sphere mother army that the Wolves knew about their little run. The Wolves would throw away the element of surprise. But she understood the repercussion of disobeying order. This was her chance to prove her worth, and she didn't want to sabotage her career more than she did during her sibko years.

So Abby fired her jump jets, taking her mech airborne, and landed just 150-meter short of the closest _Jenner_. The mechwarrior was so overwhelmed by shock his alpha strike missed Abby by a whopping meter to the left. Abby put her crosshair squarely on the _Jenner's_ left side and thumbed her trigger. Her pellets sanded off most of the side armor of the 35-ton mech, making it shudder in a wobbly lurch.

The two _Sentinels_ hurled their AC5 shells at Abby but her star mates, a _Wyvern IIC_ and a _Conjurer_, showered the _Sentinels_ with brilliant laser bolts. Globules of molten metal sprayed into a wide arc as ferro-fibrous smelter dribbled down their legs, hissing as it grazed the sub-zero icy ground. The sudden loss of balance buckled their knees, and as inexperienced as they were, their shots flew high above Abby's cockpit.

The _Jenner_, seemingly the most experienced of the bunch, used its jets to reposition itself behind Abby's back. Its missile tube spat fire and smoke, and a second later three explosions ripped the back armor of Abby's _Clint IIC_. Abby groaned as splinters and sparks filled the cockpit. She felt warm fluid trickled down her face; as the droplets seeped into the crack between her lips, she tasted its stickiness and saltiness. It was her own blood for sure. Her flashing LED alarmed her about a critical hit, and she noticed her reactor's output was cut around 30 percent.

Everything added to her fury. She gunned her own jets, swiveling her mech in the air, placing her crosshair at the _Jenner_ who was just touching down from its own jump. Her laser stabbed its torso just under the left arm. Sparks burst from the wound, and for all she cared, those two medium lasers were gone. The Jenner tried to swing left to bring its right lasers to bear, but Abby fired her LBX cannon. The punching power of her shotgun stopped the _Jenner_ dead in its track, buckling under the assault, as its left arm flew whooping in the air.

The other _Jenner_ - not engaging any Clan mech yet - tried to help its compatriots but a _Griffin IIC_ and a _Galahad_ emerged from behind a pile of ice. Knowing there was nothing it could do to change the fate of its lance mates, it turned away from the battle and put everything into its leg myomer.

"All hands, we have a barbarian on the loose!" Whiskey Alpha yelled from his _Galahad_. "Finish your enemy and pursue the last _Jenner_! We cannot afford to lose it!"

Abby twisted as far as she could, exposing her right side at her _Jenner_ enemy, making her surface as tight as possible. The _Jenner's_ return fire whizzed around her cockpit, but only one missile blasted her right shoulder. Abby steadied her mech, waiting for the impact to susbide, then came out full force. Her lasers pierced a layer of armor on the front, and her submunitions wiped out the remaining armor on its left side, exposing its engine wide open.

The _Jenner_ pulled one last act of defiance. It fired all weapons, then hurled itself at Abby, hoping to bring her down in a phyrric victory. But Abby had anticipated this maneuver. If there was one thing an Inner Sphere barbarian would do that a Clan trueborn wouldn't, it was physical attack, and Abby had drilled herself hard to survive this dishonor. She twisted hard and gunned her jets in a quick burst, giving her mech a horizontal thrust away from the _Jenner's_ line of fire. The 35-ton steel monstrosity passed by a mere centimeter away from the _Clint IIC_. Abby jabbed her finger on the trigger, and twin laser bolts pierced the _Jenner's_ exposed engines. A massive fireball blossomed from the center, spliting the _Jenner_ into two.

By this time, the _Wyvern IIC_ and the _Conjurer_ had gotten rid of the _Sentinels_ and joined the _Galahad_ and _Griffin IIC_ in pursuit of the last _Jenner_. Abby pushed her throttle to the max, but her _Clint IIC_ topped off at only 83 kph. The _Jenner_ had damaged her engine, and she could only watch in despair as the gap between her and her star mates became larger and larger.

"Keep up, Whiskey Echo!" her star commander yelled through general frequency.

"Negative, Whiskey Alpha, my engine is hit," Abby responded. "Will not pass 83 clicks per hour…"

"You stravag freebirth! You are the faster among the five of us!" Whiskey Alpha screamed in rage. "You are supposed to be at the front of every engagement, not slacking off at my rear!"

Abby was about to rebuke the insult when her radar picked up another heat signature. It was big, bigger than any battlemech she had encountered in New Oslo. Abby's mind flipped through numerous dreadnought-class battlemechs like the _Atlas_ or _Devastator_ or even the venerable _Dire Wolf_, but this one was way bigger than a normal battlemech, even at 100 tons. Then it dawned on her…

"Dropships! Whiskey Alpha, the barbarians are dropping off…"

But it was too late. A massive metal orb descended from the sky, supported by four pillars of fire. The rest of Abby's star mates were already too close to the drop-off site there was no way to escape it alive. The Clan mechs quickly spread themselves wide, but the dropship pinpointed the _Griffin IIC_ and singed it with a concentrated fire of lasers and PPCs. The _Griffin IIC_ instantly exploded into a fireball.

"Whiskey Actual, this is Whiskey Echo!" Abby called Star Captain Oleg for assistance. "The freebirths are dropping off in massive numbers! I have contact with one… neg, two… stravag, four Inner Sphere dropships at grid five-niner-niner point three-two! Request immediate assistance!"

"Pull out, Whiskey Alpha!" Oleg roared in a combination of rage and anxiety. "Pull out at once!"

"Neg, Ovkhan, there is no time!" Whiskey Alpha replied in a defiant tone. "Whiskey Star! To the death!"

"Whiskey Alpha! Pull out, you freebirth!" Oleg screamed from the top of his lung, but his voice was swallowed by explosions as the _Wyvern IIC_ and the _Conjurer_ blew up in a hail of Gauss shells. The first dropship to land opened its bay door, and a heavily-modified _Battlemaster_ jumped off the ramp right in front of the _Galahad_. The Clan mech fired everything it had, but the assault mech just shrugged off the attack. It hoisted its AC20-laden right arm and blasted its massive cannon in a deafening roar. The shells seared off the _Galahad's_ arms clean, staggering the heavy mech. The other dropships singled out on the stunned _Galahad_ and swarmed it with missiles, lasers, and PPC bolts, until nothing left of it but dust and blackened soot on the icy ground.

"Whiskey Alpha is down!" Abby reported.

"Pull out, Whiskey Echo! Return to base and fight them another day!" Oleg grumbled.

"But Ovkhan…"

"Pull out, you lowly freebirth! Your demise will not help Wolf Clan winning this contest, but you can fight them tomorrow and hit them where it hurt most! Return to base and regroup!"

Lucky for Abby, her mech was limping when she gave chase to the Jenner, so now she was quite far away from the dropships. But it felt more like a curse than a blessing. She could only watch her star mates getting overwhelmed by superior Inner Sphere force, and coming back alive from that engagement would feel like abandoning her star mates. That feeling would etch itself at the back of her mind for a very long time.

However, Oleg was right. If she fought on, her death would mean nothing for her, for Oleg, and for the Clan. Just like her star commander and mates. This round belonged to the Inner Sphere, and there was nothing she could do to change that fact.

"Copy that, Ovkhan," Abby said as she turned her mech around. "Returning to base."


	26. Chapter 24

**Chapter XXIV**

**_CW _Blood Drinker_,  
><em>****_Wolf Clan _Black Lion_-Class Heavy Cruiser,  
><em>**_**Tukayyid, Free Rasalhague Republic,  
><strong>__**May 2, 3052**_

Tukayyid, an arid world in the Free Rasalhague Republic. It was a storied world hearkened back to Ronin War. It was the place where the Inner Sphere and the Clans would decide the future of the Clan invasion, and possible the fate of Terra, the birthplace of humanity. Twelve armies of Comstar Com Guards would square off against 25 galaxies of Clans in the single largest engagement in human history. If the Comstar won, the invasion would cease. If it lost, then the Clans would have a free passage toward Terra.

For Marissa, Tukayyid campaign brought a drop of relief because the best warriors of the Clan Wolf were engrossed in preparations to fight the Com Guards. She had not seen Benten for days. She didn't even know if he was still aboard the _Blood Drinker_. Some days she hoped he died in training, but she knew it might just be her wishful thinking. Benten was a terrific pilot. He could handle himself well in almost any situation.

Better still, when talking about the best Wolf units, no one could discount the 13th Wolf Guards. Darien was here, that much she was sure. She couldn't wait to see him, to drink the sweetness of his caress, and to wash away month-long agony of Benten's malice in a long, sweet, intense lovemaking.

But in a bizarre twist, when other Clans were already engaging the Com Guards at the surface of Tukayyid, Marissa was summoned to a meeting involving two star captains and three star commanders, one of which was Benten. His face was all red, and his large eyes were pouring out abhorrence. One of the star captains was a beautiful woman with unusually white hair. The other star captain was an aerospace fighter like Benten. Both of them carried the mark of the 13th Wolf Guards. One of the star commanders was also of an aerojock phenotype. The other one was none other than Darien, her mentor and her lover.

Dazed and thrown off, Marissa noted a lot of changes in Darien. He didn't wear his mohawk anymore. He lost some of his sibkin bulkiness, but still maintained the stature of a well-trained warrior. He was somewhat more aloof and proud, and she noticed that the single star in Darien's uniform might have been responsible for his different attitude. He was not a sibko trainee anymore.

Darien gave her a quick smirk, and Marissa immediately knew what was going on.

"Come closer, bondswoman," the white-haired woman invited her into the gathering. "My name is Star Captain Ranna from the 13th Wolf Guards. Star Captain Carew Nygren and I have questions for you, and we need you to be as frank as possible."

"That is something we cannot count on, Ovkhan!" Benten spat. His hands trembled, riding his wrath. "This freebirth was a pirate! Thief! Liar! Deceiver!"

"Speak only when you are addressed to, Star Commander!" Carew barked. Benten knew his place, and he backed off. Challenging a bloodnamed warrior would not help his case.

"Is that true, bondswoman? Are you a pirate?"

"Was, Ovkhan. I was a pirate when Star Commander Benten shot me down and took me bondswoman."

"And how long ago was that?"

"Three years ago, Ovkhan. It was August 3049."

"Did you know what a bondswoman mean?"

"Aff, Ovkhan. It is a prisoner of war bounded by honor. It is customary in Clan culture that an honorably beaten warrior receives honor during captivity and the chance to integrate into the Clan, if he or she desires it, and has the right attitude and skillset beneficial for the Clan."

"Who told you that?"

"Star…" Marissa faltered. She knew Benten would show her no mercy for telling the truth. Months of beating and torture flashed at the back of her mind, making her tremble. But then, she could not lie to Star Captain Ranna and Carew. Darien might have already told them what happened, and this was a test of her virtue. Everything was about honor in the Clan society. "Star Commander Darien, Ovkhan."

"Why did your bondholder not give you what you deserve, Marissa?" Ranna calling her name made her sweat even more profusely. "Do you not think you deserve it?"

"I… I do not know, Ovkhan."

"Do you consider yourself an honorable warrior?"

Marissa could her herself breathing laboriously. "I uh… I do, Ovkhan. I might be of a pirate band, but my conduct in the battlefield was nothing short of honor. I can fill you in with my past achievements, but I will not take too much of your time…"

"Save your modesty and be frank," Carew stepped in. "Are you a good pilot?"

"Aff, Ovkhan."

"Do you think you can fight Clan fighters given an opportunity?"

"Aff, Ovkhan."

"Do you want to fight for the Wolf Clan?"

"Aff… Aff, Ovkhan." Marissa took a moment to reiterate her answer. "I will fight for Wolf."

"Are we in need of more pilots?"

"Star Captain, my name is Star Commander Molaram, 4th Wolf Guards," the other aerospace pilot spoke up. "My unit was assigned to back up the 13th against the Drakons at Satalice, but we met fierce oppositions. We suffered 50-percent casualties. A pilot like Marissa would make a good replacement for my squadron."

"You cannot have her!" Benten growled. "She is my bondswoman! I decide if she is worthy of joining the Wolf rank or will just be a bondswoman trash for the rest of her life! I have been giving her what she deserves, and she does not deserve honor! She is a pirate!"

"You are holding back a good asset!" Molaram fired back. "I am in need of experienced pilots to replace the fallen Wolf kins during Satalice campaign, and Marissa could have been great. Because of you, I have to fight the Com Guards with less-than-effective squadron!"

"Your words are lies, Molaram! You do not even know her!" Benten screamed. He turned to Darien, and it dawned on him. "It is you, _quiaff_? It is you who has been going behind my back! You have been poisoning my bondswoman with Warden nonsense and conspiring to kill me! And you do not have the courage to face me alone you have to drag Molaram to back your claim!"

"Aff, I have been giving Marissa what she deserves for over a year," Darien, who had been silent since the beginning, started to speak. "I gave her everything a Clan bondsman should know about our culture short of physical training. She is well-versed in Wolf traditions."

"Why did you do it, Darien?" Ranna turned to Darien. "You have no business in aerofighter community. Why did you interfere with their problem?"

"I believe it is the way of our Clan, Ovkhan. It is the right way to treat honorable warriors by our tradition. The same thing you did for that freeborn Phelan." Darien paused briefly, enjoying the moment when Ranna's pale cheeks turned beet-red. "We are not that much different, Star Captain Ranna."

"Star Commander Molaram, do you want Marissa in your rank?" Carew came to Ranna's rescue.

"That is an affirmative, Star Captain," Molaram nodded firmly.

"NO! I will not tolerate this disgrace!" Benten roared. "I challenge you, Star Commander Darien, in a circle of equal! If you think you can rob me from my possession in the name of the Clan, you are a stravag fool!"

"You have to do it, man," Carew winked at Darien. "It is the way of the Clan."

"It is the only way," Darien stripped his jacket and stepped to the center. "In fact, I am glad he asked for it." Others, including Marissa, immediately backpedaled until they formed a sizeable circle. Nearby warriors, bored and longing for action, quickly filled in the perimeter of the circle. Some rooted for Darien, others for Benten, but most of them didn't care who were fighting. They were in for the bloodshed.

"Somebody throw him a knife!" Benten stepped into the circle with his electro-lash crackling. An infantry pulled his bowie knife and slid it on the floor to the center of the circle. Darien naively stepped forward and bent down to reach for the knife, while Benten cocked his arm, ready to fling his multi-pronged electric whip anytime.

Marissa knew Benten's strategy. It was the same scheme he pulled against her the fist time he beat her up in a circle of equal. As soon as Darien touched the knife, Benten would strike his hand. And she had been around Benten for too long to notice his intention through his large, spiteful eyes. He was not going to hold back. He would hurt Darien with all his might. Her mouth was already open, but she knew she could not intervene. She just covered her eyes with her hands, but managed to take a peek from between her fingers.

_Please, please, Darien, don't go for it…_

But it was too late. Darien reached for the knife, and as soon as his fingers touched the hilt, Benten swung his electro-lash. The prongs wrapped around Darien's wrist. Darien's body arched forward and his head snapped back. A muffled groan escaped from his lips as his knees buckled, almost touching the ground. Benten heaved the electro-lash, and Darien's right arm was stretched forward, forcing him to go down on his knees.

But when Marissa was about to cry, Darien grabbed the crackling whip with his right arm. He yanked the electro-lash behind hard. Benten's body flew forward as he lost his grip. The electro lash whipped in the air as he took several steps forward, coming into Darien's striking range empty handed. He started to flinch, but Darien fired a hard left jab, hammering his temple. The world went black for a full second, and when Benten pulled himself together, he found himself lying on the ground.

Marissa couldn't help yelping in joy, and her voice sorted through the bloodlusty screams of other warriors. Her heart beat faster than ever, watching Benten struggled to get up while Darien tossed the electro-lash out of the circle. It was the moment she had been dreaming of for a long time, and although it was not her busting Benten's face, it was good enough.

Benten grabbed the bowie knife and – hurling his battle cry – charged Darien with the knife swinging like a windmill. But without his electro-lash, he was just a small man who didn't know what he was doing. Darien parried the attack, then slammed home a nasty left hook into Benten's temple. As Benten reeled, Darien's right elbow blasted his face right on the bridge. Benten's small body crashed like a log.

Darien walked by Benten's limp body, and when he found no sign of the aerojock getting up, he turned to Ranna and Carew. "I claim Benten's bondswoman as an isorla."

"Seyla," Ranna walked by to inspect Benten. "Get her ready as soon as you can." She shot a goaded stare at Darien. "And do not get too carried away. We both know how easy it is to get attached to freeborns." Then she playfully slapped Darien's wrist. It was not a hard strike, but she strategically placed it at Darien's burnt wound, forcing him to grimace in pain.

Marissa wanted to jump on Benten's body and bludgeon him senseless, but it was not even worth her time. Instead, she threw herself at Darien, wrapping her arms at his neck, and showered him with kisses. "I do not know how you pull this off, but I…"

Instead, Darien pushed her and stood her in front of him. "From now on, you are no longer Marissa Valentin," he said with a straight tone. "You are Marissa of the Wolf. You are my bondswoman. You will do everything I say. In return, I will shape you into something you never thought possible. I will make you a Wolf Clan warrior. If you show dedication to me and to Clan Wolf the way a trueborn does, I will promote you to take a Trial of Position. That day, you are bondswoman no more. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Ovkhan," Marissa replied.

"Good." Darien looked into her eyes, and then pulled her into him and kissed her deeply. And just when Marissa started to eagerly reciprocate, he pushed her again and inspected his deep burnt wound on his wrist. "I have to get this fixed."

"I will go with you," Marissa jovially hooked her arm into his, and matched his steps as they went together to the infirmary.


	27. Chapter 25

**Chapter XXV**

You can ensure the safety of your defense if you only hold positions that cannot be attacked  
><em>~ The Art of War<em>

* * *

><p><em><strong>Sierra-3325, New Oslo,<br>**__**Wolf Occupation Zone,  
><strong>__**May 9, 3052**_

Morning barely broke but Abby had been running her _Clint IIC_ around the firebase, shifting from one corner to another, trying to find the optimum defensive formation. The radio chatter on the comlink turned her woozy. Each star commander lined up his points to occupy strategic positions along the firebase. Each star captain yelled at his star commanders to cover all possible weak points of the base. Each technician barked at one another, getting all battle platforms working to hold the enemy at bay.

Nine days had passed since she first encountered the massive Inner Sphere army, most likely a mercenary unit employed by New Oslo noble-at-large, Prince Edgar Riksföreståndare. Reconnaissance had been run tirelessly by Star Captain Oleg, and meticulous photo survey showed a yellow cobra with blood-red eyes emblazoned on the dropship' hulls and mech' torsos. Their bravado sickened her and made her wary at the same time.

"Turn off the general frequency and form up on me!" Star Captain Oleg spat in disgust. "Tap on my frequency only!"

Abby followed his command, then parked her mech next to Oleg's _Orion IIC_ overlooking the vast white plain of New Oslo. "I knew this day would come," Oleg said through private frequency. "When I knew the Green Keshik failed to apprehend that stravag prince, I knew we would find ourselves fighting for our lives with our backs against the wall. Their impotence had cost us lives and materials. If I live long enough to meet Khan Natasha Kerensky, I swear I will declare the entire Green Keshik as _dezgra_!"

Oleg set his comlink to sweep mode. "This is Star Captain Oleg of the Wolf, Dorbeng Garrison Cluster. State your name and show your face, mercenary _freebirths_!"

Static occupied the comlink for several seconds, then a young, cocky face appeared on the screen. The bulky neurohelmet hid half of his face, but his eyes shot confidence seen only on front line Clan troops.

"You just have to have a proper introduction to anything, don't you, _trashborn_?" the young man said. His voice shimmered in audacity. "But if that makes you feel comfortable before you die, then alright. My name is Captain Zack Mackenzie, Cobra Kai Mercenary. I am bringing in the Third Company with heavy to assault battlemechs to take over your firebase. I will only say this once: that firebase is mine. You can do it the easy way and surrender, or the hard way and die a fool's death. By the end of the day, the result will be the same."

"How naïve of you to think you can beat superior beings like the Wolf Clan!" Oleg hissed. "Your overconfidence will be the death of you!"

"There's only one way to find out," Zack replied. "If it's death you want, it's death you'll get!"

"Find me, Captain Mackenzie! Find me and we will have our circle of equal!" Oleg yelled before cutting off his comlink. He turned to Abby and the rest of his binary. "Stand fast! Make every shot count! Find that Mackenzie _surat_ and let me have him!"

As her _Clint IIC_ lacked of ranged weapon, Abby switched places with a _Griffin IIC_. She took the second line of the defense among half a dozen other mechs. Laser turrets were spread in a tight grid over the hills and cliffs. Tanks and Elementals took positions between the mechs, hoisting their weapons high, bracing for impact, waiting for the Inner Sphere to make their first move.

It was not long until Abby's radar picked up pesty Mechbusters coming inbound with great speed. She recalled her tactical training about the freebirths: they didn't have the honor to face off with the trueborns in an honorable duel. They would use indirect fire like artillery or carpet bombing to soften up the Clanners before sending their battlemechs to wipe out was remained. Just thinking of it made her want to vomit.

"Do not fire!" Oleg yelled over the comlink. "Let the turrets get them! Just keep your heads down and save as much armor as you can!"

The laser turrets went alive as the Mechbusters came inside their range. The extended-range lasers picked them up from long range, stabbing fuselages and mutilating wings. Those which survived the barrage met with rapid-firing, highly-accurate pulse lasers, and about half of the Mechbusters went down spiraling in flames.

The ones that got through, however, quickly dropped their high-explosive bombs in and around the firebase. Each 500-lb bombs whistled in the air before blasting the ground in an orange fireball. The Elementals suffered first; body parts were tossed in every direction, bloody limbs and gristle painted the white ground. Walls and turret towers crumbled under the onslaught, and several tanks and fighting vehicles were set ablaze.

The battlemechs, nonetheless, were still standing. Abby was forced to abandon her post and snaked through geysers of fire and ice. The shockwaves wobbled her, and the flaming debris set minor fire on her mech, but otherwise she was still fully combat effective. Other mechs shared the same fate. Oleg's _Orion IIC_ didn't even move. It still perched at a cliff, training its weapons at the vast white plain, ignoring the carnage and death that ripped the firebase apart behind it.

As the Mechbusters passed by, a new group of flyers came inbound. These new bombers were slower, bulkier, more sluggish, and guaranteed packing heftier firepower. Abby's computer clocked them as Chippewas, Inner Sphere 90-ton of flying tanks. With a quartet of large lasers and a LRM20, each of those bruisers could torch a medium mech way beyond any sizeable counter attack by the ground pounder.

"Hit their wings!" Oleg barked. "I want them out before their first pass!"

Some mechs with ER PPC started lighting up the sky, but hitting the wings was easier said than done. All but one PPC bolt stuck void. The one hit strafed the left wing of the closest Chippewa. Burning debris rained down as the mighty fighter tipped over, but before plunging into the valley, it pulled up to safety. Black smoke twirled from its wing, and the pilot didn't want to push his luck. It turned around and limped away from the firebase.

The bulk of the fighters reached nominal range for their missiles, and in an instance a torrential missile rain swept the firebase. Abby held her joysticks hard, keeping her _Clint IIC_ from falling behind as the missiles chastised her front armor. The _Griffin IIC,_ which traded places with her ten minutes ago, was forced to backpedal straight at her, and only her quick reflex saved both of them from taking unnecessary damage.

That was not all. The missile rain was replaced by lasers. Ruby strands of light illuminated the firebase. Tanks, fighting vehicles, and warehouses exploded into smithereens. Fire raged out of control, and the command post was the only building that was not burning. A _Jenner IIC_ was caught in a 4-streak crossfire. The thin armor didn't stand a chance against the beams. The _Jenner_ slumped head-first, then exploded in a massive fireball.

All this time, Oleg didn't move an inch from his cliff. He carefully aimed his Gauss rifle at one Chippewa, then hurled his nickel-ferrous shell. The supersonic ball slammed home at the Chippewa's wing, pulling off a crack at the joint with the fuselage. The Chippewa staggered midair; it rolled to the left, but the air drag ripped the wing off the fuselage. The Chippewa twisted and spun out of control, plunging into the depth of the valley, leaving only black oily smoke behind.

Abby waited until the heavy fighters reached half a click away then pumped up her LBX10. At the extreme distance, her submunitions spread to a wide area, punching holes on a Chippewa but not enough to do any serious damage. The Chippewa shrugged the attack and returned fire with missiles. Abby fired her jets, taking her _Clint IIC_ airborne, right on the Chippewa's path. The Chippewa started to turn, and that was when Abby unleashed her twin lasers. The bolts stabbed the aileron, locking it in position, turning the Chippewa endlessly to the left without any means to alter direction. It rammed another Chippewa, and the two disappeared into a fireball right on top of the command center.

Two more Chippewas were shot down, and the heavy fighters went flying pass the firebase. Regrouping with the Mechbusters, they turned and showered the firebase with missiles. A firestorm swept the remaining tanks and combat vehicles, leaving only the turrets and the battlemechs defending the base, which itself was almost nonexistent.

"Give it all you got!" Oleg yelled as his Gauss slug sped and bludgeoned the fuselage of the lead Chippewa. The 90-ton heavy fighter was thrown off course; it reeled to the left, forcing the Chippewa next to it to take evasive maneuver, but nipped the wing tip of a Mechbuster in the process. The much-smaller fighter went spiraling down and exploded as it crashed to the ground.

Abby locked the lead Chippewa, still reeling from Oleg's shot, then fired her own cannon. A ton of shredded armor showered the firebase. The Chippewa, staggering hard midair, fought to regain control but Oleg's twin lasers eviscerated the fuselage. His missiles, coming a close second behind his lasers, singed the power generator. The 90-ton heavy fighter disintegrated in brilliant hue.

The laser turrets kept picking up the Mechbusters, leaving only 20-percent of the original number making the second pass above the firebase. The Chippewas were reduced to less than half the original strength. Knowing that they did their job – and not wanting to risk more of their assets – the aerospace fighters picked up altitude and flew away.

The comlink immediately exploded with triumphant cheers, but Abby knew it was not the end of it. The aerospace fighters managed to knock out most of the tanks and Elementals, and even a couple battlemechs. All but one building were on fire, including mech hangars where they stored parts and ammunition. The turrets were still operational, but turrets were easy to dismantle. She knew the Spheroids knew that the strength of the Clanners had been reduced to 50 percent, and understanding their characteristics, she could expect to see their battlemechs soon.

"Rally to me! Rally to me!" Oleg yelled, bringing his _Orion IIC_ to the western side of the firebase. Abby quickly followed his direction along with the remaining battlemechs. Surely enough, heavy and assault Inner Sphere battlemechs marched forward, climbing the steep hill toward the firebase, captained by the _BattleMaster_.

"Back up to the turret control tower!" Oleg laid out his plan. "Do not let them touch it!"

"But the command center…"

"The command center is not going to help us against these barbarians! Defend the turret control tower at all cost! Let them come to the turret's firing range, then give them hell! If we have to go down today, we are going down making them pay! For Wolf!"

"For Wolf!" Abby cried out and eased her thumb on the alpha strike button, waiting for the mercenaries to come into the killing field.


	28. Chapter 26

**Chapter XXVI**

**Note**: Whoever cracked the code about Cobra Kai (Guest?), hats off for you. It took you this long, but well worth the LOL.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Sierra-3325, New Oslo,<br>**__**Wolf Occupation Zone,  
><strong>__**May 9, 3052**_

The carnage, brought by the Mechbusters and Chippewas, left the Clan defenders by just seven battlemechs and a series of laser turrets. None of the battlemechs, with the exception of Oleg's _Orion IIC_, weighed more than 60 tons. In contrast, the barbarian horde came in company strength, and none of them weighed less than 70 tons. On paper, this engagement would be best described as a massacre.

But Oleg knew he had one more ace up his sleeve. The quality of Inner Sphere weaponries was inferior to those of the Clans. Their lasers were outranged by Clan's version. Their longest-range weapons, the PPCs, were half as accurate as those of the Clan's. And their hardest-hitting guns, the Gauss rifles and the autocannons, had only less than 50-percent connection rate at extreme range. Coupled by Enhanced-Imaging implants and superior reflexes of their mechwarriors, the Clan's war machines were more than adequate to take on the mercenaries.

Distance was the key.

"Let them come!" Oleg screamed as he steadied his mech in front of the turret control tower, blocking it from the mercenaries. Abby parked next to Oleg, sandwiched between the _Orion IIC_ and a _Wyvern IIC_. Two _Glass Spiders _lined up on Abby's far right, and a _Griffin IIC_ and a _Wolfhound IIC_ perched on her left, right next to Oleg.

The mercenaries walked right into the turret's effective range and quickly greeted by a nasty laser crossfire. A brash _Zeus_ marched into the killing field and paid the price when four consecutive large laser bolts shredded its front armor. The quick loss of mass staggered the assault; its knees buckled and its arms spread wide for balance check. It fired a quick counterassault, but with such a bad position, the PPC went miserably high above the turrets, and the missiles hammered the cliff, far away from their intended targets.

Two _Awesome_-9M stepped up and brought their triple ER-PPCs to bear. Two turrets quickly exploded, relieving the pressure on the _Zeus_. Two _Marauders_ followed suit, destroying two more Clan turrets in a wild exchange with the turrets. A _Warhammer_ and a _BattleMaster_ followed their comrades. With more battlemechs inside the firing range, the turret's focus points were divided, and the pressure were lifted up.

"Long-range weapons only!" Oleg commande. "Fire! _Grand Melee_! Hit them where it hurts!"

The _Glass Spiders_ spearheaded the attack with a steady barrage of Gauss slugs. Three nickel-ferrous balls busted the front armor of the _Zeus_. Weakened by the turret onslaught, the Gauss slugs eviscerated the center torso. The _Zeus_ keeled over before disappearing into a cloud of fire, smoke, and debris.

Oleg let loose a Gauss slag of his own, hitting one of the _Marauders_ on the shoulder. The _Marauder_ twisted and twitched, compensating the hard blow of the Gauss rifle. The _Wolfhound IIC_ stabbed the _Marauder_ where Oleg had made his mark, and the _Wyvern IIC_ poured in its missiles at the Gauss wound. The _Marauder_ left shoulder breached in brilliant colors, spewing tongues of fire and burning debris. The _Marauder_ wobbled hard before slumping.

Realizing the potential of the two _Glass Spiders_, the mercenaries brought in two _Longbows_. A hundred missiles leapt into the sky like white rainbow. A third of them descended upon a _Glass Spider_ and tore cracks and holes on its armor. Some of the missiles fell on the lightly-armored turret control tower. Bits of concrete blended with ferro-fibrous shards as smoke billowed from the base of the tower.

"Kill the _Longbows_!" Oleg roared. "Abby, kill the _Longbows_!"

Abby, who hadn't had the opportunity to fight, throttled up to maximum. Her _Clint IIC_ jumped forward and broke into a sprint. The _Wyvern IIC_ and the _Griffin IIC_ followed her move while the _Wolfhound IIC_ claimed Abby's space. The _Awesomes_, _Marauder_, and _Warhammer_ caught Abby's maneuver and showered her with particle bolts. Abby crisscrossed her path, using the turret fire as a shield as she moved from one mech's blind spot to another. The heavy and assault Inner Sphere mechs couldn't keep up with her furious charge, and could only watch in discombobulation as she broke through the Inner Sphere formation, straight at the _Longbows_.

The _Wyvern IIC_ followed Abby's maneuver almost step by step, but the _Griffin IIC_ was lagging, and ultimately caught off guard. Missiles and PPC bolts rained down on the 45-ton mech, ripping it apart limb by limb until nothing was left attached to the structure. The medium mech crumbled in flames.

As the Inner Sphere mechs came closer, they traded heavy blows with Oleg and the rest of the Clan mechs. The Gauss barrage from the _Glass Spider _dealt the most damage, costing the mercenary one _Awesome_ and the _Warhammer._ The other _Awesome_ and the remaining _Marauder,_ on the other hand, concentrated their PPC bolts at a _Glass Spider_, overloading it with particle charge and tearing its chest open. A missile blanket from the _Longbows_ gutted the _Glass Spider_, turning it into an explosive fireball. The explosion almost took the turret control tower down. Heavy smoke billowed from every part of the tower, a sure sign that it wouldn't last any longer.

Abby saw the opportunity to blast a hole in the Inner Sphere defense, but she had to go through a massive _BattleMaster_ before she could get to the _Longbows_. Autocannon shells raced from its right arm, and Abby grimaced as her _Clint IIC_ fired its ballistic monstrosity. Half of her front armor was gone, and what was left was charred and wrecked. One more shot at the center torso and she was sure she would blow up into smithereens.

But she wouldn't go down without a fight. Crouching, she pulled up her arm and mashed the trigger, decking the big _BattleMaster_ on its right torso. Her shot was strong enough to twist the assault mech. The _BattleMaster_ twisted back but missiles and laser bolts from the _Wyvern IIC_ kept it busy. And when it had a hard lock on her, Oleg's Gauss slug and missiles clawed the 85-tonner right where Abby's shot landed a minute ago. The _BattleMaster_ staggered hard as sparks and smoke burst from its right torso like a geyser.

Abby used the _BattleMaster's_ momentary lapse of focus to make a dash at the _Longbows_. Their steady stream of missiles had destroyed the other _Glass Spider_, leaving Oleg and the _Wolfhound IIC_ as the remaining defenders of the turret control tower. But getting closer to the _Longbows_, Abby noticed that they were the –OW variants, with paper-thin armor and no short-range weapon whatsoever. Smelling danger, the _Longbows_ quickly fired their missiles at Abby, but she just simply jumped over the rushed attack. Without hard lock, the missiles just blasted the ground harmlessly.

"Right torso, center mass!" Abby signaled the _Wyvern IIC_. "Give it all you got!"

The LBX10 cannon barked and belched fire, sanding several layers of armor off the right torso. The _Wyvern's_ lasers and missiles followed suit, wiping out the remaining armor. Abby fired her twin lasers at the red-hot blotch at the right torso and the _Longbow's_ ammunition bins went up in flames. Half of the mech exploded, and what remained of once an 85-ton monster crashed to the ground, blanketed in fire and black smoke.

The _BattleMaster_ regained its footing and quickly aimed for Abby when the _Wyvern IIC_ boldly blocked its line of sight. The AC20 shells, meant for Abby's _Clint IIC_, fractured the back beams of the _Wyvern_. The _Wyvern's_ upper body snapped backward, and the sudden shift of balance threw it off its feet. It tumbled into the icy ground, writhing vainly to get back on its feet. The _BattleMaster_ singed it with missiles and PPC, and the _Wyvern_ disappeared behind tongues of fire.

Abby was ready to turn around and face off with the _BattleMaster_ – even though it would ensure her demise – but Oleg's voice beat her through the comlink, "Captain Mackenzie, we have both reached combat loss grouping. I give you a chance of _hegira_. Reconsider your situation and reposition your troops to fight another day, or continue this carnage to its final stupidity and none of us will gain anything out of it. The choice is yours."

It was a reckless – if not completely illogical – bid from Oleg. The mercenary still had an operational _BattleMaster_, a barely-scratched _Longbow_, and a full lance of heavy mechs that had not even fired a single shot. Oleg only had his barely standing _Orion IIC_, a _Wolfhound IIC_ with no guns left, and Abby's _Clint IIC_ with virtually no front armor. There was no chance the Clanners would stand 5 minutes against the mercenary.

But for some reasons Abby would ponder for years to come, the mercenaries backed out. Perhaps Oleg saw something she didn't. Perhaps the engagement put such a sour taste in the mercenary's morale – losing half of their heavy and assault mechs to Clan's second-rated mechs - that they decided to abandon their seemingly assured victory. Or perhaps the battle had taught them a lesson that nothing worked as planned in the battlefield. Abby didn't know. Chances were she would never know.

"You may save this day, Oleg," Captain Mackenzie replied as his _BattleMaster_ backpedaled. "But the fact that your firebase is mine doesn't change. I will have it, today, tomorrow, or next month. My troops will sweep your legs off your base at every chance until you is all that's left. At that time, you will have no mercy."

"Leave your troops at home and face me in the circle of equal like an honorable man, you stravag freebirth!" Oleg hissed. "There is no point wasting more assets!"

"I will not play your stupid game!" Captain Mackenzie spat.

"If dishonorable fight is what you are best at, fine! I am not going anywhere!" Oleg grunted. He waited until the mercenaries were out of range, then rallied the remnants of his binary. "Fall in!"

Abby was sure that Oleg would give the order to abandon the firebase, but again, she was proven wrong. "We dig in until reinforcement arrives!" Oleg growled as his limping mech scurried the destroyed firebase. "If they decide to come back, we throw anything we have in our inventory until we cannot throw anymore! New Oslo belongs to Wolf Clan, and if the freebirths want it, then they have to take it over our dead bodies!"


	29. Chapter 27

**Chapter XXVII**

Off we go into the wild blue yonder,  
>Climbing high into the sun;<br>Here they come zooming to meet our thunder,  
>At 'em boys, Give 'er the gun! (Give 'er the gun now!).<p>

~ _Robert MacArthur Crawford_

* * *

><p><em><strong>Skupo, Tukayyid,<br>**__**Free Rasalhague Republic,  
><strong>__**May 12, 3052**_

The carnage of the week-long battle for the city of Skupo was unforgiving. As far as Marissa's eyes could see, charred hulks littered the ground. Some still twirling black smoke. The smell of death blended with acrid scorching battlemech parts. Not a square inch of ground was not covered in soot, coolant, or blood. The city itself was remarkably intact, since Comstar conceded the city to the Wolf Clan as soon as their mechwarriors tore into Comstar's last defense.

As Marissa walked through the remains of both Clan's and Comstar's war machines, Star Commander Darien filled her in with the latest update of Tukayyid Campaign. The Smoke Jaguars fell at Dinju Heights and Port Racice, loosing both Khans. The Nova Cat's command ship was destroyed at Joje. The Steel Vipers were trapped at Devil's Bath. The Diamond Sharks were fighting for their lives at Kozice Valley. Only Jade Falcon's short-lived occupation of Olalla, Ghost Bear's hard victory at Spanac, and the Wolf's decisive but costly victory at Skupo worked for the Clans. The seemingly invincible Clan forces were being mauled in a bloodbath by Comstar armies.

The ferocity of the campaign transpired in Darien's face. He was exhausted. His eyes were swollen and watery. His breaths was short, almost came in gasps. He and his 13th Wolf Guards had to go through Comstar's veteran 282th Division, then walked into a point-blank ambush by the 138th Division. Although the 13th shredded both divisions, the battles took a heavy toll on the surviving mechwarriors.

"Khan Kerensky ordered a 2-day complete rest for the surviving warriors while the techs repair, refit, and reload the battlemechs," Darien explained the situation as he led Marissa through a sea of POWs. Hundreds of Comstar warriors were sitting on the ground, hands tied behind their backs, while Elementals and Clan ground soldiers scurried among them. "But there are still works to be done."

"How can I help, Ovkhan?" Marissa somehow knew why she was summoned to Tukayyid.

"Look at them, Marissa," Darien stopped next to the POWs. "They are from the Inner Sphere. They were born in families. They have families. Mothers, fathers, brothers, sisters, husbands, wives, children. Just like yourself. Are you ready to fight against them to help Clanfolks like me?"

Marissa only gave a short glance at the POWs, then looked at Darien's eyes in the earnest. "My only family died when I was seven. Most of my young life was spent in a group of outcasts that Comstar tries to banish. You are the only one that makes me feel like I have a real family. I will do whatever you ask me to."

Although it was not the answer Darien was looking for, he decided it was good enough. "Follow me," he said, then led her through a maze of aerospace fighters being prepped up for combat. They arrived at the farthest corner where Star Commander Molaram waited. Marissa started to feel that their encounter at the _Blood Drinker_ was not a random happening, and she would see him many, many more times.

"I believe you have been aware of our situation," Molaram said as he donned his jumpsuit. "Clan Wolf has two missions in this campaign. Skupo had been secured. Brzo is still out for grasp. Getting Brzo will make Wolf the only Clan that wins both missions. But Skupo, Dinju Heights, Joje, Devil's Bath, and other cities where the Clans took heavy losses taught us that Comstar troops are not barbarians. They are smart. They know how to prepare a fight, and they know how to execute a good defense. What happened at Skupo cannot be repeated at Brzo. We cannot lose assets like we did at Skupo. To beat them, we must outmaneuver them at every step.

"My pilots have been prepped up for heavy combat at Brzo. You and I are going on a recon run of Brzo and its surroundings. We will make a sawtooth maneuver at and around Skupo. We will map out Comstar's emplacements around Brzo, so we will know where their strong and weak points are."

Just the thought of going back into a flying vessel made Marissa's blood bubbled with excitement. It had been almost 3 years since her last flight, and every cell of her body was aching for it. She had been grounded for such a long time that she was afraid her skill might have deteriorated. Fortunately this was just a reconnaissance. Only minimum dogfighting skill and a quick hand to afterburn were required.

Molaram proceeded to brief her about the aircrafts. "This is _Sulla_ omnifighter. It is quick, agile, decent loadout, and reasonably armored. If you have not piloted a _Sulla_ before, you need to go easy on the throttle. You can lose control in speed. Your _Sulla_ is equipped with a modified targeting computer. It works like a rudimentary point-and-shoot camera of the old 20th Century, but you need to stay on a target for 5 seconds before the computer finish the scan and record the data."

Just by looking at it, Marissa could tell that the omnifighter far exceeded anything she had ever piloted before. The fighter was so streamlined and so aerodynamic she could swear the fuselage was made of one giant monocoque shell without seams and rivets. And although it was heavily-armored for a 45-ton flying machine, it didn't looked blocky like Inner Sphere armor platings, instead it looked like made of carbon fiber. Smooth, curvy, but deadly.

"Do you think you can handle it?" Molaram caught the childlike gusto in Marissa's eyes.

"You can count on me, Ovkhan," Marissa chimed. "Thank you for your trust in me."

"Thank your bondholder," Molaram grabbed a jumpsuit and tossed it to Marissa. "This is his idea. Suit up and mount your _Sulla_ in five minutes."

Marissa turned and was ready to throw herself at Darien, but he took a step back and gave her an assuring nod. "This is your chance to prove yourself. Do this right, and your path will be much smoother."

Marissa smiled as she stripped. She tossed everything to the ground, giving Darien an unadulterated view of her ample bust, letting him know that all his good deeds would be handsomely rewarded, before zipping up the jumpsuit. She climbed the _Sulla_, thumbed the start button, and sank into bliss as the aircraft's turbines whirled into a high-pitched hum. She never thought she would hear that music again.

"India One to India Two," Molaram's voice sprang loud and clear. "Report, over."

"India Two to One, all system nominal," Marissa replied, reading the report on the screen.

"One more thing, Marissa. Your _Sulla_ is not armed. Mine is. So if you try something stupid, I will shoot you down. And if by Kerensky's grace you are still alive, I will personally hand you back to Benten. This time, Darien will not be there to rescue you."

"I owe Star Commander Darien my life, Ovkhan," Marissa strapped her helmet. "I will never betray him."

"That makes the two of us," Molaram's _Sulla_ sped and went airborne. "Take it to the sky, India Two."

Marissa waited until Molaram reached a safe distance, then pushed the throttle to maximum. Against Molaram's advice, she put everything into the engine, and savored the sweet G-force that nailed her to her seat. The cockpit rattled as she blasted through the runway. With a quick flick of her wrist, she put the aircraft to the sky. The nimble fighter followed her every direction. The handling felt as if it was half the size of her old _Spad_, where in fact it was 50-percent heavier.

"Are you done having fun?" Molaram quipped. "Form up on my three, India Two. Let us see what you have got."

"Coming right up!" Marissa replied in a burst of emotion, then chased Molaram's _Sulla_ through the clouds.


	30. Chapter 28

**Chapter XXVIII**

_**Sierra-3325, New Oslo,  
><strong>__**Wolf Occupation Zone,  
><strong>__**June 29, 3052**_

The sound of dropship engines almost tore Abby's eardrums completely apart, or so she thought when two Wolf dropships made the final descend at Sierra-3325. Even being enclaved in a battlemech didn't help. The shockwave from the engines seemed to rattle her cockpit up to the tiniest nuts and bolts. Everything clattered in her cockpit, including her teeth.

The first dropship was a Union-C class, carrying a complete trinary of battlemechs and some spare parts for the survivors. Five _Rifleman IIC's_, three _Glass Spiders, _four _Hunchback IIC_'s, and three _Griffin IIC's_ trundled down the ramp as soon as the bay doors opened. The second one was a Confederate class, carrying weapons, ammunitions, logistics, more spare parts, and construction materials to repair the turret grid. A couple construction vehicles were also deployed to rebuild the command center.

One of the _Rifleman IIC's_ came to the presence of Star Captain Oleg and Abby. He hailed the two through general frequency, and when Abby established connection, a young face appeared on her screen. Although his stares showed some experience, the boy was not much older than Abby, just barely got out of his teens.

"Who is the ranking officer here?" the boy chimed.

"Here, Star Captain Oleg," Oleg replied coldly.

"Star Commander Fabio, at your service. My order from Galaxy Commander Anton Fetladral is to reinforce your unit. I carry a full trinary of medium and heavy battlemechs, and enough ammunition to support them for several months. The dropships will stay until the turret grid and command center are up and running. Their firepower should be enough to discourage the Inner Sphere barbarians."

"Step out of your mechs," Oleg said to both Fabio and Abby. "We will talk about this face to face."

The cold New Oslo weather forced Abby to bite her lips as she climbed down her _Clint IIC_. She was geared to fight in blazing-hot temperature in her battlemech, wearing almost nothing barring her cooling vest, underwear, and a pair of boots. The tech quickly blanketed her with several layers of tunics until she was warm enough to walk in subzero atmosphere. Oleg and Fabio received the same treatment, but being the much larger mechwarriors, they seemed to handle the cold better than Abby.

Oleg led them to the highest point of Sierra-3325, just like first time when Abby arrived at the firebase. Abby had never visited this place after the attack, and the scene was devastating. The entire base was completely flattened, and nobody knew there was a firebase at this location if not because of a single turret control tower. Black remains of battlemechs littered the white ground, creating somewhat pretty but eerie scenery. The Confederate dropship perched where the barracks once stood. And the command center was just some pieces of white rocks one on top of another.

"Our communication is cut off," Oleg started. "What is the word on Tukayyid?"

"The barbarians won," Fabio sighed, morosely, as if bringing the news of the annihilation of the entire Clan. "The Smoke Jaguars, Nova Cats, Steel Vipers, and Diamond Sharks were decimated. The Jade Falcons achieved a draw, and the Ghost Bears obtained marginal victory. Only us, the Wolf, won decisive victory, but saKhan Garth Raddick was killed in action. Casualties were staggering."

"That is inconceivable!" Abby tuned in. "How could the freebirths best us?"

"They were prepared, and we were not," Fabio averted his eyes from Abby's wrathful gaze. "Although, some Wolf hard-liners suspected that ilKhan Ulric Kerensky may have had his hands dirty in the loss of Tukayyid."

"What does that mean?" Oleg cocked his eyebrows. "Ulric wants the Clan to lose?"

"He is a staunch Warden, _quiaff_?"

"Aff, but to kill his own kins?"

"Right now it is only hearsay, Ovkhan. I am not in the capacity to tell you the truth, nor I am here to discuss it with you. I am here to serve you."

It was not the kind of news that anybody wanted to hear, especially when they needed moral boost after being mauled by Spheroids. Oleg and Abby traded look, and wordlessly agreed that the news was best shared between the three of them at this moment.

"And what of the Dorbeng Garrison Unit elsewhere?" Abby said, staggering to digest the fact that the Clans were not the supreme warriors anymore. "Where is our position against the Cobra Kai?"

"All fronts are on the defensive," Fabio explained. "Our main HQ has been hit hard by a combination of air superiority and battlemech attack. Galaxy Commander Anton Fetladral barely escaped the onslaught. Western front was worse; we lost our ground to the barbarians, although a quick counterattack by the reinforcement team drove them back. But we are all suffering heavy beating. Casualties are in the 60 percent."

"What do we know about this Cobra Kai mercenary?" Oleg grunted.

"Aside from the fact that they are using air support extensively, very little. But it seems that they use the same strategy everywhere: they use their fighters and heavy bombers to soften the defenders, then send in their battlemechs to wipe out what is left. That is the reason Khan Natasha Kerensky sent a good number of _Rifleman IIC's_ as reinforcement."

"That is how we will play our game," Oleg concluded as he threw his gaze at the vast white plane full of battlemech remains. "Fabio, you are Whiskey Alpha. You and your _Rifleman IIC_'s will be Whiskey Star. Your job is to defend the turret control tower from enemy bombers. Do not care about anything else, Abby and I will take care of the rest. I will take the _Glass Spiders_ and two _Hunchback IIC's _in my Xray Star. Abby, you take the rest. You are Yankee Alpha."

Abby wasn't sure if she interpreted Oleg correctly. "Pardon, Ovkhan. Do you want me to lead Yankee Star?"

"I need a rear guard leader, and you have proven yourself to be a very competent asset of Wolf Touman. Congratulations, Star Commander. Lead your men well."

It was still vivid in Abby's mind that the first time she arrived at Sierra-3325, she thought it was a dump. But things started looking up. She proved her worth against some mercenaries, and the promotion was a big step in her career. If she continued down the path, Natasha Kerensky might reconsider her deployment and maybe – just maybe – induct her into the 13th Wolf Guards, Abby's holy grail.

"Thank you, Ovkhan," Abby smiled broadly as she snapped an enthusiastic salute. "You will not be disappointed."


	31. Chapter 29

**Chapter XXIX**

_**Tamar, Wolf Occupation Zone,  
><strong>__**August 31, 3052**_

Marissa's recon run proved to be the critical turning point in Wolf's bid to win Tukayyid Campaign. Comstar expected the Wolves to dive head first at Brzo and relied on their superior short-ranged, ammo-dependent combat skill, much like any other Clan warriors. They never thought the Wolf would make a reconnaissance and commited surgical attacks at Comstar's weak points. As such, the 13th Wolf Guards single-handedly decimated Comstar's defenders at Brzo, thus giving Wolf Clan the glory of being the only Clan that won decisive victory at Tukayyid.

Although Marissa was responsible for the victory at Brzo as much as Star Commander Molaram, Darien and Molaram were credited with the critical decision, and were both promoted to take Trial of Bloodright. Marissa felt she could've fought for what she deserved, but she chose to just step back and let the trueborns carried their own politics. She had no desire to partake in Wolf's internal conflict between The Wardens and The Crusaders.

Molaram fought for Metha bloodname, and he was doing well until the final battle when he was tricked into fighting unaugmented in a circle of equal. His opponent exploited Molaram's weak leg – a scar he got at Satalice – and threw him out of the circle, thus ending his bid. Darien fought for Kerensky bloodname, and he started poorly, barely winning the first round in a bloodbath. The second round went better for him. The third round didn't look good – his opponent wanted an augmented fight in an _Executioner_. Darien's 45-ton _Ice Ferret_ had little chance against the 95-ton monster.

"I do not understand this Trial," Marissa sniffed as she helped Darien with his cooling vest. "What is it in a name that you have to shed blood? Is the price of a Kerensky name worthy of your life?"

"It is a bloodname," Darien replied in a huff. "It is the highest honor a warrior can get. This is our tradition. This is the way of the Clan."

Marissa knew she couldn't stop him. He came from a world lightyears away from her own, and no matter how hard she tried to understand his thirst to prove himself in a do-or-die test, she couldn't. She couldn't – or perhaps wouldn't – grasp the idea to put oneself consciously in deadly situations just for a name. Nobody cared about names – be it Marissa Valentin, Marissa of The Wolf, or Marissa Kerensky. They were all just names.

But apparently, for Clanners, it was not the case, and the misunderstanding worked both ways. As impossible it was for her to understand Darien, it was impossible for him to understand that her little outburst was her channeled frustration and fear of losing him. He couldn't understand affection. So before he mounted the elevator, she grabbed his cooling vest, turned him around, and kissed his lips deeply. Darien was dumbfounded. He just stood there like a fool as Marissa mashed her lips against his vigorously, letting him feel – feel, not understand – that she was there for him.

"Just come back to me," she whispered on his ears as she stroked his cheek. "I do not care who you are. Be it Darien of The Wolf or Darien Kerensky, just come back to me."

As she expected, Darien gave her a completely baffled look, not exactly knowing what she wanted to do in the first place. He just chose to leave her and went to his _Ice Ferret_. And Marissa could only pray that everything worked the way she wanted it to work as he brought his mech to face the 95-ton menace in the battlefield.

The trial soon started, and as expected, the _Executioner_ drew first blood with a calculated laser salvo. Darien's _Ice Ferret_ careened heavily, and he was forced to suspend the _Ice Ferret_ with one arm. Rivulets of molten armor trickled down the arm like blood.

The _Executioner_ went in for the kill. It raised its Gauss rifle, but just about it was firing its cannon, Darien hit it with PPC squarely on the torso. The momentum was strong enough to turn the _Executioner_ sideways, causing the nickel-ferrous slug to soar harmlessly above the _Ice Ferret_.

Realizing the potential of the _Ice Ferret_, the _Executioner_ backed up, maintaining its distance advantage. Darien, however, was not to be outdone. He quickly regained control of his mech and sprinted. All 130 kph of it was directed straight at the _Executioner's_ close-quarter area.

Marissa knew that an _Executioner's_ loadout was directed at open-field coverage, with three long-ranged weapons and speed faster than most heavy mechs, and jumping ability unusual for a 95-ton assault. In a convined 1-to-1 duel, the _Executioner_ could be outmaneuvered by a quick, hard-hitting mech. Its only point-blank protection was a couple of machine guns. She knew what Darien was thinking, and considering all the odds, she had a feeling that Darien might have a chance.

Still, the 50-ton disadvantage seemed to be too much for Darien to cover.

The _Executioner's_ pilot quickly deciphered Darien's battle plan, so it went airborne, then strafed Darien's position from midair. But the small _Ice Ferret_ ran in sawtooth pattern, dodging the _Executioner's_ big guns, and shrugged the torrential machine-gun bullets. It patiently waited for the _Executioner_ to run out of juice.

The patience paid off. As soon as the big _Executioner_ touched down, Darien fired his missiles. The highly-accurate SRM2 hammered the _Executioner's_ right torso. The armor stopped the missiles, and the lanky mech twisted to bring its Gauss rifle to bear, but Darien kept moving right, peppering its right torso with small laser and occacional missile shots.

This situation lasted for a while, and the two were seemingly stuck in a stalemate with no party was able to gain clear advantage, until the _Executioner's_ right torso started to open up in craters and cracks. The _Executioner's_ pilot, ignoring Darien's pesky shots, realized that he had been underestimating Darien's persistence, and now the _Executioner_ was in danger of ammo explosion. Its move became more erratic and desperate, shooting lasers and Gauss slugs in a clear intention to get a knock-out punch, but Darien kept circling it, moving away from its line of fire, and stabbing its right torso at will.

It was then when the _Executioner_ decided to shed honor. Just as Darien made a cross run from its blind side, the _Executioner_ stretched its right arm and back-handed the _Ice Ferret_. The physical attack cost it the double laser cannons on its right arm. But half of the _Ice Ferret's_ cockpit was mauled, and the 45-ton omnimech wobbled, staggering backwards as if the pilot was nonexistent. The _Executioner_, taking a steady stance, took the killing blow. The supersonic Gauss slug ripped the _Ice Ferret's_ chest, lifting it off its feet, and slamming it on its back.

Marissa couldn't watch it anymore. There was so much care and affection she invested in Darien that she couldn't see it gone in a blaze of fire. She left, found a corner, then crouched and covered her ears. Seconds later, the ground shook, and although she didn't see the explosion, her mind saw it blow a hole in her heart. Just like the explosion that took Seth away from her 3 years ago.

But just as her tears started rolling on her cheeks, she heard – faintly – that familiar voice croaking over the mech's external speaker, "I, Star Commander Darien, declare that I have won this Trial of Bloodright. My opponent did not adhere to honor during our fight, so I am taking his _Executioner_ as my isorla."

"Seyla," Natasha Kerensky's voice boomed over the PA. "From this point on, you will be addressed as Star Commander Darien Kerensky, until the time of your death or the grand councils no longer see you fit as the bearer of the name of Kerensky."

It was almost inconceivable, and now Marissa regretted her decision to leave the battle ground. Wiping her tears, she ran back to the battlefield, only to find the _Executioner_ sitting on the ground with its right torso ripped wide open, and Darien's _Ice Ferret_ stood in front of it, battered, bruised, but triumphantly. The _Executioner_ pilot was hauled in a stretcher, while Darien wobbled back toward the hangar. His face was soaked with blood, but the fact that he was walking made Marissa exhale in relief.

"Congratulations, Star Commander Darien Kerensky," she said with a wide grin. "Quite an achievement, and it deserves a present."

Her last comment put a small smile on his face. "What kind of present?"

Marissa unbuttoned her shirt, letting it hang lose on her side, giving Darien an unadulterated view of her cleavage behind her white silky bra. "Unwrap it yourself after you take care of your injuries."


	32. Chapter 30

**Chapter XXX**

**Note**: this chapter is greatly inspired by The Siege of Kerak in 1183, both hystorically and fictionally (with Abby playing the role of Balian of Ibelin in the movie _Kingdom of Heaven_).

* * *

><p><em><strong>Sierra-3325, New Oslo,<br>**__**Wolf Occupation Zone,  
><strong>__**November 3, 3052**_

Chippewas, Chippewas, and more Chippewas.

The Cobra Kai mercenaries obviously didn't hold back in using their aerospace assets to bring down the Clan firebase. The sound of the jets thundered when the Chippewas – flying wing tip to wing tip – glided over Sierra-3325, like cumulonimbus hauling thunderstorm in its belly. And as expected, torrential missile rain swept the firebase like a thunderstorm. Buildings crumbled and went ablaze. Dense concrete structures that took months to erect exploded in a matter of minutes. Clan battlemechs staggered to keep standing, and limbs and body parts flew every which way, and flame seethed from the stumps where the limbs were attached seconds ago.

"Hold the line!" Abby grimaced, both by the deafening sound of explosions that rattled her eardrums, and the intimidating sight of dozens of Chippewas blocking the sunrays. "Prepare to return fire, energy weapons only! Target the underbelly of the aerofighters! _Grand Melee!_ Now!"

Laser bolts stabbed the fuselages of the Chippewas. A couple of them immediately turned glowing red, and droplets of molten armor rained down on Abby's star. But the Chippewas had enough armor to sustain Abby's attack, and most of them would just glide harmlessly if not because of the Gauss slugs from the _Glass Spiders_ and thick laser web from the turret grid. Three Chippewas plummeted to the ground with their guts eviscerated. Others still maintained formation, although the _Riflemen_ and _Glass Spiders_ stars slowly turned the tight bombing formation into pockets of stragglers.

In fact, the Wolves had more than enough firepower to throw back at the mercenaries. The new turret grid was placed like a spider web, leaving no sector undefended by at least three laser cannons. The turret control tower was covered by 5 _Riflemen IICs_ who were eager to shoot down any flyers that foolishly contested their air superiority. Oleg spread his heavy star at the front, strengthening the forefront of the firebase, while Abby's star guarded the rear just in case the mercenary tried to sneak behind.

The Chippewas left the effective range of the Clan defenders, leaving the base completely destroyed in flames, but failed to destroy a single defender. They turned around and came inbound in several smaller formations, hoping to divert the thick anti-aicraft shots. But Oleg quickly read the mercenary's strategy and deployed his star to reinforce the turrets facing the incoming bombers.

The first layer of Chippewa came into range, and the turrets – having superior range than the Inner Sphere weapons – fired first. Laser bolts filled the air with murderous intent, bringing down the two closest Chippewas before they could fire their weapons. Oleg and the _Glass Spiders_ followed suit with missiles and Gauss guns, ripping more Chippewas apart with razor-sharp precision. The first layer of Chippewas went down in flames without significant strike to the ground defenders.

But the sacrifice of the few lead Chippewas put the next groups into a perfect attack position. Missiles and lasers rained down on the turrets and battlemechs, and half a dozen turrest caved in. Oleg's star staggered under the onslaught, giving up tons of armor while weathering the storm, but refused to go down. The Chippewas gave them all they got, but the mechs were just too stubborn to give up.

Desperate for a quick victory, the Chippewas turned into a tight formation and hunt for the turret control tower. Unfortunately, the _Rifleman IICs_ had been waiting for such maneuver. It was what they were designed for, and it was where they were at their best. Blinding lights from laser and autocannons lit up the sky in such fury that the Chippewas didn't have time to flinch. Half of the heavy bombers went spiraling down in flames, while the rest broke formation without a single shot at the turret control tower.

The scene with the Chippewas taking evasive maneuvers boosted the Clanners' morale, but not for long. Somehow at the back of her mind Abby knew the mercenary wouldn't rely on air support alone. Battlemechs were the princes of the battlefields. It would be naïve to think that the mercenary was sending a task force – no matter how strong it was – with no battlemech.

"Visual contact with enemy battlemechs, company strength, bearing zero-niner-niner," Abby cried out as her HUD came alive with battlemech's heat signatures. "Distance… 1.2 clicks and closing!"

"Intercept them at grid E3 and keep them busy," Oleg replied. "The Chippewas are coming inbound, hopefully for the last time. As soon as I finish with the bombers, I will reinforce you!"

Twelve Spheroids against five Clan mechs was barely a fair fight. Five of the mercenaries were _Phoenix Hawks_ – fast, lethal, and good for all ranges. The rest of them were less dangerous _Sentinels_, _Whitworth_, and _Vulcans_, but they were great support weapon platforms for the _Phoenix Hawks_. All of them could snipe a good hit.

But Abby knew she was not supposed to win the fight. She was just supposed to hold the mercenaries at bay until the big boys – Oleg's _Glass Spider_ star – could get into position and deliver the killing blow. Not exactly a walk in the park, but not an mindless suicide either.

"I want all _Phoenix Hawks_ dead in five minutes!" Abby orchestrated her star. "These barbarians deserve no honor! You are granted a _Grand Melee_! Hit them where it hurts! All hands, fire at will!"

Yankee Star quickly dispersed into the snow, each point engaging one _Phoenix Hawk_. Abby put her _Clint IIC_ in high gear and locked it as she ignored the rest of the mechs. The _Phoenix Hawks_ backed up slowly, inviting the Clanners to come close, while the _Sentinels_, _Whitworths_, and _Vulcans_ circled around them, creating a textbook trap with the Clanners in the inside.

"Whiskey Actual, the barbarians have trapped Yankee Star," Abby reported. "We cannot stand a chance against their crossfire. Please advise."

"Five minutes, Yankee Alpha," Oleg came back morosely. "It is all I ask. Hang on for five minutes."

"I will do my best." Abby cut off her comlink, just as the _Phoenix Hawk's_ large laser sliced through a ton of armor on her right arm. She was not finished compensating the load when another stream of autocannon rounds ripped a hole on her left torso. A couple laser bolts stabbed her from her back, and a wave of missiles – surely came from a _Whitworth_ – hit her with tidal-wave force, so great that she had to drop to one knee.

"_Stravag_!" Abby hissed. "_Stravag_, all of you!" She pushed her mech up, then fired her mech-size shotgun at the _Phoenix Hawk_. The 45-ton Inner Sphere mech careened to the left, compensating the loss of a ton of armor and the impact force from the LBX munitions.

Abby centered her crosshair at the _Phoenix Hawk's_ midsection, but she was fighting three or four mechs at the same time, none of which fought with honor. Missiles, cannon rounds, and laser bolts turned her rear armor into shredded ferrofibrous. Half of her monitors went dead, and sparks burst from the ceiling like twinkling rain drops. Her left leg went dark, a sure sign of the loss of control. Although it was still attached to the body, it was as good as dead.

But Abby wouldn't give them the satisfaction. Her main gun was still operational. So she pumped her LBX again. The _Phoenix Hawk_ tried to outflank Abby but was caught in the leg. The shockwave pushed the _Phoenix Hawk_ past its tipping point. The lanky mech swiveled on its unsteady leg, then tumbled in a loud crash, face flat on the snow.

The other mechs poured down their firepower, and with her left leg out of commission, Abby could only stand defiantly against the onslaught. Explosions after explosions tore her mech apart, from limb to limb, until all that left was titanium beams with no armor left. Her right arm and right leg were mutilated by missiles and cannon rounds, and the only thing suspended the _Clint IIC_ was the left arm. Acrid smoke filled the cockpit, and all screens went dead or static. Abby's only chance was to punch out of her dying mech.

But Abby was a warrior of the Wolf. Living in shame was not an option.

The _Phoenix Hawk_ pulled itself up from the snow, then walk pompously toward the mutilated _Clint IIC_. It brought down its large laser slowly until the nozzle lined up with Abby's cockpit. Abby stared right into the dark nozzle, accepting her death, when a bizarre twist of fate threw the _Phoenix Hawk_ behind several dozen meters. Once again the _Phoenix Hawk_ ended up in the snow. Two gruesome craters adorned the center torso of the sleek mech. Seconds later the mech erupted in an earth-shattering explosion.

Abby couldn't see what was happening since her HUD was damaged, but she didn't have to see it. Wheezing sound of supersonic Gauss slugs ripped through the air, and explosions followed suit. Loud autocannon burps cracked in the distance, followed by heavy ricochets from battlemechs all around her. Through her broken canopy she observed confusion had taken control of the mercenary movement. And just as she expected, the Inner Sphere backed off.

Turning off the engine, Abby climbed out the cockpit and saw Oleg's star, sandwiched by the _Rifleman IICs_, had left the base to reinforce her. There was nothing left of her star; her _Clint IIC_ and an equally busted up _Hunchback IIC_ were all that remained. The rest of her star were scattered in a wide area, along with dark Inner Sphere carcasses.

"Many thanks, Ovkhan," Abby hailed Oleg from her personal comset.

"We still have one operational mobile field base," Oleg replied. "We can fix your battlemech in short time. Good work, Star Commander. Your sacrifice for Wolf is duly noted. When this is all over, I will personally make it known to Khan Kerensky."

"Greatly appreciated, Ovkhan," Abby nodded with a smile.


	33. Chapter 31

**Chapter XXXI**

_**Tamar, Wolf Occupation Zone,  
><strong>__**February 15, 3053**_

The Clan's dojo always gave Marissa the creeps. It was a simple 30-by-30 room with cold hard floor. It was dark, reeking the stench of sweat and blood. The wall was not even painted. It was plain drab concrete with blood stains splattered all over the place. It was more like a torture chamber instead of a martial art practice room. Granted, Marissa came off from a long tradition of pirate bands that never cared about health standard, but this was beyond civilized. It made her wonder who the real barbarians were.

Wearing only her sport bra, spandex short, and a pair of boots, Marissa put a double cover in front of her face and inched forward. In front of her stood her bondholder – mentor - lover, wearing similar clothings with the exception of a simple white t-shirt. The dim light hid his true appearance, but Marissa knew it well. She spent nights caressing those bumps and curves, and she knew full well that the same muscles that gave her so much pleasure in bed would give her so much pain in the training session – if she was not careful.

Sizing her opponent up and down, Marissa started to question the purpose of this session. Darien was born – no, _engineered_ – stronger, faster, with better reflex, and better combat perspective than any normal human being. He was not excessively huge like some other Clan warriors, but he had almost 100 pounds over her, and still moved like she was the one having 100 pounds over him. This was barely a fair exercise, and the only thing Marissa would end up getting was hurt.

But Darien insisted, and who was Marissa to say no?

"Look into my eyes, not my body," Darien grunted, as if he was reading her mind. "It is not the size of your opponent in a fight that matters, it is the size of the fight in your opponent, and you can measure it through his eyes."

"Easy for you to say," Marissa grumbled as she circled around him. She pumped a few fake jabs at Darien, forcing him to hop backward, then continued her circling movement. "You have everything!"

"Do not complain, woman!" Darien growled as he leapt forward. Marissa ducked and turned to her left, but she turned to the wrong side. When she realized her mistake, Darien already stood behind her. He jabbed his knuckles in between her ribs, and Marissa's scream reverberated in the concrete room. The pain almost turned her spine to mush, and she had to lean on the blood-stained wall to support herself.

It was a warning shot, Marissa understood. Darien could've put her out of commission with a more lethal strike. But no, he only nicked her with his knuckles. It was not even a debilitating strike. But he did it at her most vulnerable spot, so perfectly timed that the pain itself could knock her down.

This was going to be a long, painful session.

"Get up, shrug it off," Darien said coldly. "Pain is only in your head. Pull yourself together and learn from your mistake. Fight me again!"

Marissa didn't understand this. In the mess hall, in the study, in the simulator, and especially in bed, Darien was this gentle and caring individual. But here, in the dojo, during their hand-to-hand training, he was a monster. He treated her like a punching bag without her being able to return the favor. He hurt her like he did Benten and many other Clanners Marissa didn't have luxury to know. What was wrong with these people? If Darien had any sense of compassion toward her, he surely showed it in a very strange way.

"Bastard!" Marissa hissed, then shot a short kick to his shin. Darien retracted his foot, like Marissa expected. She leapt and fired a roundhouse kick to his jaw. Darien found time to duck, letting her leg swooshed above his head, then fired off a right hook that was a reminiscent to his punch that knocked out Benten. Marissa anticipated this move. She dropped down to the floor and swiped his legs. Unfortunately, Darien was on a defensive, so her foot just bounched off his boot without doing any damage.

Darien bent down to grab her but Marissa rolled backward. Darien went on the offensive. He lunged forward with his fist flying at Marissa's forehead. It took her a great deal of effort to parry that attack, but she did. He went on again. His other punched zipped toward her shoulder. Marissa bent down, hard, feeling his murderous arm grazed the tip of her hair. She hammered his abs from the inside, but it felt like she just punched a wall. Her knuckles throbbed.

His body was too well-fortified. She had to go for his head.

Darien didn't use his legs much for attack, but this time he leapt and roundhouse-kicked Marissa, looking for a knock-out blow to the head. That was her chance. She slipped to her right, letting him settle down, then roundhouse-punch him when he turned to face her. The back of her hand blasted Darien's temple. Marissa bit her lips as her hand throbbed in pain, but it was not for vain. Darien reeled to the side, and he took several steps behind to gain balance.

"You are better when you are angry," he commented.

"You like me when I am angry?" Marissa taunted him as he jumped forward, pressing her advantage. Her kick dashed straight at Darien's midsection. Darien blocked her attack, and Marissa's 112-pound frame crashed into Darien's 210-pound body. It was not a smart maneuver, and Marissa knew it, but couldn't do anything about it. Next time she knew, Darien pushed her neck down in a swirl, and she crashed on the floor, feet spread up in the air.

"Your talking and your overconfidence are faster than your kicks," Darien spat, disappointedly. "That is your weakness. Talk too much, not enough poise."

If he was trying to get her more pissed off, he was doing a good job. Marissa pulled herself up, launched a series of kicks and punches, and amazed at herself when she backed Darien up. His back inched closer to the wall, and Marissa pumped a fake roundhouse kick at his face. His reflex brought his face down, and Marissa slammed her knee into his forehead. The loss of balance forced the Clan mechwarrior to lean on the wall, mirroring Marissa's own position a couple minutes ago.

"And you…" she breathed laboriously, "your continuous underestimation of _freeborns_ will be the death of you!"

"We are past that point!" Darien sprung up, shooting a nasty stare at her. "You are a Wolf, regardless who you were and what you were in your previous life! That is the end of it!"

"Then what is with this training nonsense?" Marissa couldn't control her emotion any longer. "You have all the physical advantages over me, yet you still want this hand-to-hand beat-up almost everyday! You teach me Wolf's honor in the battlefield, but you violate it as soon as we get here! Why? Because you are the bondholder and I am the bondswoman?"

"Wrong!" Darien suddenly lunged forward, shooting a right hook like a windmill. Marissa was taken aback by the ferocity of his attack. It was different than his previous attack. He had been holding back. This time, he didn't. She flinched, barely, feeling his punch grazed her cheek. It burnt, and it burnt bad. Marissa stepped aside, but Darien launched a straight kick into her midsection. His heel sank into her solar plexus, and Marissa saw her vision tunneled down into a small dot. She went down hard on her butt, retching, gurgling, fighting hard to get air.

"Do you still not understand the purpose of this exercise? Are you still not accustomed to Clan's culture?" Darien walked in circle with Marissa in the center. He was visibly angry and disappointed. "Do you think I enjoy hurting you? I die a little everytime you feel pain!"

"Then why?" Marissa croaked in her gasping breath. "Why?"

"Your time will come when you have to take a trial to enter the warrior's caste of Wolf Clan," Darien sat in front of her. "You have to do it on your own, and Benten will be there, at every corner, at every turn. He will make it his business that you are not accepted as the member of warrior's caste of the Wolf. He will hurt you with all his might. I do not want it to happen, but if you cannot overcome me, you will not overcome him. Then all the things we go through together will just go to waste."

Benten. It was the name she wished she never had to hear again. She thought her days with him were behind her. But unfortunately, Benten was a member of the warrior's caste of the Wolf Clan, the very place Marissa was trying to earn a membership. Like it or not, it was only a matter of time when she would cross path with him again. That was the fact.

And it was painful to realize that Marissa was in a society where physical pain was as common as sneezing. As much as Darien cared for her, he had to hurt her, because he had to prepare her against Benten, and because it was the way of the Clan. Here, physical pain was a norm. It was not easy to accept, particularly because where Marissa was brought up, pain was associated with hate, sin, resentment, even death. She hated this concept. But she didn't have a choice, and she might as well have to embrace it.

"You are not in a condition to continue, so let us just stop here," Darien rose and grabbed his water bottle. "Think of what I just said to you. Tend your injuries, and clean yourself up. I expect to see you in my quarter in 30 minutes. We can discuss this development further in private."

Marissa could only nod solemnly.


	34. Chapter 32

**Chapter XXXII**

_**Sierra-3325, New Oslo,  
><strong>__**Wolf Occupation Zone,  
><strong>__**June 14, 3053**_

The last bombing run by the Cobra Kai depleted their aerospace assets. More than half of their Chippewa heavy bombers were either destroyed or heavily damaged. Since then, the Clan-Spheroid engagements had been limited to weekly skirmishes. The Cobra Kai relied heavily on their aerospace forces, and when it was gone, their ground forces couldn't handle the Clan's firepower by themselves. Several attempts to hit the firebase had been tried, but the Clan defenders beat them back every single time.

When the mercenary arrived, Abby believed that she would die as an 'unnamed' soldier very soon. The mercenary hit Dorbeng Garrison unit on all fronts, so hard it looked like the Clan would buckle. But by the smart reinforcement assets by Natasha Kerensky and the indomitable generalship of Star Captain Oleg, the small firebase was still standing to this date. Granted, the Cobra Kai still laid siege and Sierra-3325 was still cornered, but the fact that they survived more than a year with limited supports from central Wolf command was a testament of how stubbornly durable the Dorbeng Garrison unit was. And Abby started to believe that the Wolf Clan might win this war.

"Multiple contacts, 5 kilos ahead, 35 kph," a Clan scout reported. "Looks like a lance of heavy to assault battlemechs. No aerospace support is detected."

"A lance?" Oleg hummed from inside his _Orion IIC_. "After everything they threw at us, this sounds almost like an insult. Yankee Alpha, guard our rear and watch for their sneak attack."

"Roger that." As Abby moved in to her position, she watched the enemy lance through overhead map. The mercenary lance consisted of an _Awesome_, a _Thunderbolt_, a _Marauder_, and a _Battlemaster_. They crept through the vast ice field until they were just outside the range of the Clan's turret grid. They regrouped in-line formation facing the firebase, and didn't make a move, which she found very bizarre.

Instead, the mercenary hailed the Clanners through the comlink.

"Attention, Wolf-ers, this is Captain Zach Mackenzie from Cobra Kai. I challenge your best fighter in a single combat to determine the future of the firebase. If I win, you all must leave the firebase at once. If you win, I will do the same. I will lift the siege off your firebase, crawl on all four, and declare you're the masters of the universe. Is there anybody brave enough to challenge me?"

"At last, Captain Mackenzie, you bowed down to my _batchall_," Oleg stepped out of the base far enough so the mercenary could see him. "Life must be hard on you, _quiaff_? We have not moved an inch since you started firing everything in your inventory for over a year. Your bold but empty claim to have Sierra-3325 in a month did not materialize, and you must be overwhelmed by shame. If you were so honorable that you stated your challenge before you fired your guns, I would have declared victory over your unit. But what can I expect from a barbarian like you except for incompetence?"

"Are you the best in your unit?" Zach said half-heartedly, ignoring Oleg's litany of insults. "Are you going to fight me or are you going to bore me to death with your talk?"

"I bid myself and my battlemech in this batchall," Oleg stepped out further. "Your prize will be Sierra-3325. If you win, you can have it. But if I win, those other three battlemechs are mine, and you will leave Sierra-3325 alone."

"Bargained well and done," Zach said as he moved his _Battlemaster_ forward. The assault mech was a heavily customized with AC20 as the primary weapon, backed up by a PPC and a LRM20. Flamers and machine guns took the remaining of the tonnage.

"Bargained well and done, freebirth," Oleg replied as he pounced forward. "Fight like a man and die like a man!"

Oleg drew first blood. His SRM4 hissed and spat armor-piercing venom, raking the _Battlemaster_ shoulder guard. It barely hurt the Spheroid mech. Oleg followed up his attack with his double large lasers, and the _Battlemaster_ gun-totting arm glowed bright yellow. Another shot like that, and the monstrous AC20 would be wasted before it could deal some damage.

But the _Battlemaster_ could take punishment better than half of assault battlemechs at the same tonnage. Its AC20 belched fire, and in an instance Oleg's _Orion IIC_ fell under a hail of depleted-uranium shells. Oleg tried to sidestep it, but half of the shells ripped the heavy mech's belly. The impact staggered the Clan mech.

Fighting for balance, Oleg fired his missiles without a hard lock. Warheads spread in a wide arc. Only a third of them found target, but it was enough to make the _Battlemaster_ reconsider its maneuver. The slight hesitation was what Oleg was after. He pumped out his Gauss slug, slamming home at the _Battlemaster_'s torso just under the chin. The assault mech was forced to backpedal, leaving a trail of ferrofibrous shards on the snow.

Oleg pushed his advantage, but the _Battlemaster_ was far from done. Man-made lightning bolt leapt from its tube and struck the _Orion IIC_ on the left shoulder. The heavy mech was stunned; the charged particles carved a hole on its torso while frying half of the instruments. The momentary lapse of control gave the _Battlemaster_ enough time to paint the _Orion IIC_ with electromagnetic wave, and fire its missiles, straight at Oleg's cockpit. The _Orion IIC_ jerked back and forth in a geyser of splinters. The missiles shredded the Clan's upper armor like paper. Only sheer dumb luck saved him from a quick death.

Abby didn't like what she saw. The mercenary was not brought up in honorable culture like Clanfolks. As much as he agreed to fight in Clan's term, he would not respect it the way Clanfolks did. For him it was just a set of rules, and rules were meant to be broken. Abby had seen many of their kind, and they just used Clan's code of honor as a means to beat the Clans.

But at the same time, Abby knew she could not interfere. Oleg chose to fight in a circle of equal, and there was no way she could stop him. It was Clan's sacred ritual, and every Clanner was honored to be able to partake in an honor duel. She just wished Oleg were more careful in selecting his opponent.

It took Oleg several seconds to recover from the headshot, and the blatant ignorance of Clan's code of honor made him mad. He fired his lasers in cascaded salvo, hitting the _Battlemaster_ on the shoulder. Several layers of armor turned into bubbling smelter. The _Battlemaster_ tried to throw Oleg's focus with machine gun shots to the head, but Oleg scoffed, letting the bullets ricochet all around the cockpit. He fired his Gauss rifle as soon as it recycled. Another solid shot to the torso, and the _Battlemaster_ reeled, wobbling and teetering as it stepped backward.

But Oleg was too quick to declare victory in his mind. As he was painting the _Battlemaster_, its autocannon roared, sending armor-piercing shells into the _Orion IIC's_ missile tubes. Chain explosions ripped the left torso apart. The _Orion IIC_ spasmed and trashed around as the explosions twisted the torso anywhere it pleased. The left arm flew spiraling in the air, and the stump bled fire and smoke. Both missile launchers and one large laser were destroyed, and what was left didn't seem to be enough to win the fight.

Oleg understood that he only had a small window of opportunity, so each shot must count. He carefully lined up his crosshair with the _Battlemaster_ right arm, then fired everything he had left. Globules of superheated armor sprayed into the open air when the laser bolt struck the upper right arm, then his Gauss slug stabbed the weakened structure, almost making a clean incision. Spark burst from the crack, and the autocannon breached, dangling by a few strands of cables and myomer.

The _Battlemaster_ took the assault gracefully, then volley-fired the _Orion IIC_ with everything it had. The missiles blanketed the Clan's torso, gnawing at the armor and weakened the structure. The PPC bolt drilled the center torso just under the cockpit. Smoke billowed from the crater as the _Orion IIC_ teetered backward. The machine guns, though virtually harmless, provided cover fire while the _Battlemaster_ waited for the weapons to reload.

Though technically he was beaten, Oleg refused to accept it. He pulled his mech up, weathering the machine gun hail, then blindly fire his Gauss gun. The hypersonic metal ball whizzed, but the poorly-aimed shell missed the target by a mere inch. It went past the _Battlemaster_ and buried itself in the snow in a spectacular geyser. Oleg's large laser flashed, but the _Battlemaster_ twisted right, exposing its nearly-unscathed left torso to the attack. The bolt carved a deep hole on the _Battlemaster's_ shoulder. It twisted and gyrated to compensate the loss of mass, but stayed strong in its feet.

With nothing else to shoot with, Oleg could only wait idly, and the _Battlemaster_ didn't waste any time. Its PPC gouged the weakened torso, boring deep into the generator, and overloaded the circuitry. The missiles came two seconds behind, shredding what remained of the virtually motionless _Orion IIC_. Tongues of fire burst from the torso, and the Clan mech slowly tumbled backward, crashing into the snow ablaze.

Abby dipped her head down, and she was sure the rest of the Clan warriors did the same thing. It was the unpalatable truth that the Spheroids, being crude and raw and dishonorable, were in fact great warriors, while the Clans were not as invincible as they thought they were despite being the superior beings. It was, after all, the truth.

"Attention, this is Captain Zack Mackenzie. I declare victory over Star Captain Oleg, and demand all Clanners to adhere to Oleg's bid. I give you two hours to leave Sierra-3325. You will not be harmed."

Abby would rather die in a fight than leaving Sierra-3325. With going down fighting, at least she could take one or two mercenary with her. This way, one year of hard work evaporated just because Oleg's careless bid against the mercenary. But she knew she had to do it. Zack Mackenzie won the honor duel fair and square, and Abby couldn't find any instance where he disrespected Clan's code of honor, barring one little instance when he shot Oleg in the head, but Oleg was barely hurt by it. Like it or not, she had to honor the outcome of the duel, and all other alternatives would only disgrace herself, her unit, and her Clan.

But where did honor rest in the ignominy of defeat?

No, not this time. For Abby, victory was all that mattered. It had always been, and it would always be. She had shed honor for victory before, and she would do it again in a heartbeat. _Victory_, not honor.

"This is Star Commander Abby of the Wolf," Abby boldly said through her external speaker. "I am not bound to a mercenary's demand for any situation. I refuse to accept the outcome of this duel. I will not leave this firebase, and neither will the rest of the Wolf warriors!"

"Abby, what in Kerensky's blood are you doing?" Star Commander Fabio snapped in her ear.

"What? What is this? Who are you?" Zack Mackenzie spat. "Oleg spoke for the entire Clan defenders, did he not? Who are you to dishonor your fallen leader and his honorable bid?"

"You know nothing about honor, you barbarians!" Abby snarled. "My order stands. I will not leave this firebase. If you want it, you have to get it over our dead bodies!"

"Abby, this is not the way of the Clan!" Fabio virtually screamed in Abby's ear. "They win, and we have to leave! That is the way, the only way! You are dishonoring the Wolf Clan with your _stravag_ defiance!"

"I will not surrender to them freebirths!" Abby cried out. "If the glory of the Wolf does not mean anything to you, then you can leave, but you leave walking! Your battlemech is for those who want to fight for Wolf!"

"Who gives you the authority over my mech?" Fabio growled as he moved his _Rifleman IIC_ to face Abby. "Who gives you the authority over Sierra-3325?"

"Last time I check, I am the ranking officer after Oleg…."

"So am I! I am Star Commander Fabio of the Wolf…"

"You relinquished your authority when you refused to fight for Wolf's honor!"

"I'm warning you, Wolf-ers, by the pre-fight bidding between Oleg and me, Sierra-3325 is mine," Zack interjected. "I don't want to hear your internal bitching. Leave Sierra-3325 in two hours…"

"This is Star Commander Abby of the Wolf! All units, open fire!"

"What? You Clan bastards!"

"Neg! Neg! This is Star Commander Fabio! Stand down! I repeat… stand down!"

"Fire at will! Kill them all!" Abby howled and lunged at Zack's _Battlemaster_. Her LBX10 roared, and the submunitions chastised the 85-ton mech at the right side. The _Battlemaster_, severely weakened by the fight with Oleg, keeled over as half the submunitions stabbed the gyro. Smoke billowed from the crack.

The _Awesome_, _Thunderbolt_, and _Marauder_ started to move to protect the _Battlemaster_, but in a state of utter confusion, half of the Clan defenders opened fire to assist Abby. Lucky for her, the _Glass Spiders_ from Oleg's star took her side and rained down Gauss slugs upon the mercenaries. Though strong, the mercenaries realized they couldn't win this round, even when Fabio's star stood down. So they decided to retreat.

"You have just made a big mistake, trashborns!" Zack threw his threat. "We don't regard betrayal lightly!"

"You do not even understand the meaning of betrayal, mercenary surat!" Abby replied. "You are the worst of your kind: fighting for the highest bidders! You have no loyalty! So come back when you are ready. I am here. I will be here for as long as Wolf wants me!"

Abby waited until the four Spheroids mechs disappeared behind the thick of the snow. She turned around and was about to address the rest of the Wolf warriors when Fabio cut her off. He brought his _Rifleman IIC_ right in front of Abby's _Clint IIC_, and pointed his long-barreled guns at Abby's cockpit.

"I am putting you under arrest, Star Commander Abby of the Wolf," he croaked spitefully.

"Not before an honor duel, Star Commander Fabio of the Wolf," Abby replied in a demented smile. "Not before an honor duel. You and me, circle of equal, unaugmented."


	35. Chapter 33

**Chapter XXXIII**

"Attack where the enemy does not attack"  
><em>~ The Art of War, Sun Tzu<em>

* * *

><p><em><strong>Tamar, Wolf Occupation Zone,<br>**__**June 15, 3053**_

Marissa never made it to where she wanted to be, or where Darien wanted her to be. Months of hand-to-hand combat didn't seem to make her any stronger or any faster than she already had. The gap between her and Darien – or typical Clan warriors for that matter – was too wide, and Marissa wondered if she would ever cross that gap. Everything started to make her frustrated.

However, Darien decided to promote Marissa anyway.

"You have seen us in a circle of equal," Darien briefed Marissa as they both walked in a corridor toward the main lounge. "It is not just a spar. It is the real combat. Warriors get hurt for real and die for real. Whoever you will encounter in the circle of equal will be a hundred times meaner than I had ever been toward you. Open your eyes and be vigilant. Asses your assets wisely; you are at the low end of the power spectrum, so never trade brute power with any Clan warrior. Use your brain. Everybody has a weakness. Find it and use it. Do not make the same maneuver twice. You are smart, Marissa. Be unpredictable."

Marissa held her steps and grabbed Darien's arm. Cold sweat beaded on her forehead. "I am scared."

Darien drew a long, deep breath before staring deep into Marissa's eyes. "That means you have respect for your own life. Your opponent might not have the same view, and that can be a weakness you may exploit for your own advantage."

"How?" Marissa scoffed nervously.

"Only you can find it."

It was not helping, but Marissa didn't have time to reassess that last comment. They had entered a spacious lounge with a large amount of Clan warriors had gathered in a dense crowd. They left the center part of the lounge unoccupied, creating a circle, which Marissa knew what they would use it for. At the farthest part of the crowd, exactly opposite of the door, sat Natasha Kerensky, the Khan of Wolf Clan.

Marissa could feel sweat running down her back.

"You may present your case whenever you are ready, Star Commander Darien Kerensky," Natasha spoke as the two of them took the center of the circle.

"My Khan, and fellow Wolf Clan warriors," Darien addressed the crowd. "For the past year I have been training my bondswoman Marissa of the Wolf to be considered as a member of our warrior's caste. Bondswoman Marissa showed many qualities shared by our trueborn society. She has proven herself to be equal to most Clan warriors. I personally train her in the art of Clan social-politics, culture, and fighting. She performed beyond expectation for a freeborn. I think it is time for her to take a trial."

"Is that true, Marissa?" Natasha boomed.

Marissa swallowed hard before answering, "Yes, my Khan."

"Why do you want to join the Wolf Clan?"

"The Wolf Clan gave me shelter and food for the last four years. I have been trained in Clan culture and fighting stance. The Wolf Clan is my home now, and as customary to the Wolf Clan, I wish to take the trial to enter the warrior's caste."

"During Tukayyid Campaign, you were given an assignment by your bondholder, _quiaff_?" Natasha continued to grill her. "While performing admirably, bear in mind that you did it against your heritage. You were a part of them before you were in Wolf Clan, _quiaff_?"

"Aff, my Khan, but I have never been a part of Comstar, or Inner Sphere for that matter. I was in a pirate band, and the Inner Sphere never acknowledges the existence of pirate bands, including Comstar. They want to banish us. The Wolf Clan did the contrary; it gave me shelter and food and a place in its society. I am welcomed here more than I have ever been in the Inner Sphere, even though I am not born as a trueborn."

"Your bondholder speaks very highly of you, Marissa. But still, you need a place."

"My Khan, my name is Star Commander Molaram, Iota Galaxy, 17th Wolf Regular," Molaram burst out from the crowd and took a place next to Darien. "I worked with Bondswoman Marissa during Tukayyid Campaign. My new unit, the Iota Galaxy, is still developing, and we need a lot of pilots. Judging by Marissa's performance in Tukayyid, I am positive that she can be a valuable member of my unit."

"Do you want her, then?" Natasha snapped quickly.

"Aff, my Khan, I want her in my unit."

"Is there anybody that objects to this promotion?" Natasha addressed the crowd.

The large crowd broke into murmur, but nobody stepped forward. Deep down Marissa prayed that it stayed that way. She heard snippets about another Inner Sphere bondsman that was unanimously entered the warrior's caste because he single-handedly obtained the world of Gunzburg without fighting. Her recon run helped the 13th Wolf Guards to beat Comstar at Brzo, and the Wolf Clan to be the only Clan that won decisively at Tukayyid. Perhaps that was enough guarantees to enter the warrior's caste without much bloodshed.

But it was naïve of her to think that this trial would go smoothly. Long predicted by Darien, Star Commander Benten stepped out of the crowd into the circle, carrying his glorified electro-lash in her left hand, as if he knew he would use it.

"I am Star Commander Benten from Gamma Galaxy," Benten snarled. His eyes were flooded with spite. "This entire scheme is a fraud. Star Commander Darien has been going with bondswoman Marissa since she was still my bondswoman, and Star Commander Molaram was indebted to Star Commander Darien since Satalice Campaign. Their entire assessment of bondswoman Marissa was false."

"Elaborate, Star Commander Benten," Natasha huffed.

"Bondswoman Marissa was - and will always be – a pirate. A person with no loyalty. A freeborn with no honor. She tried to escape even though she had been treated with respect. She threatened to kill me during our education session. We cannot take a chance to let her enter the warrior's caste because we cannot predict what she can do to stab the Wolf Clan in the back."

Although Benten's claims were all misleading, Marissa knew how to behave and obtain sympathy from the Black Widow. She held her tongue while Darien and Molaram were obviously offended by Benten's remarks.

"If this was a free gathering, I would have invited you to a circle of equal, Benten," Molaram threw barbs at Benten. "But I will not rob Marissa from the satisfaction ofbeating you to pulp. I will cheer for her."

Marissa bit her lips to keep her from smiling. She calmly stepped forward toward Natasha. "Star Commander Benten's accusations are false, my Khan, and I am ready to defend myself in a circle of equal."

"Seyla," Natasha nodded. "Let this be a Trial of Position for Bondswoman Marissa, and let no one interfere. Star Commander Benten, what weapon do you choose?"

"I choose my electro-lash," Benten grinned. "If she cannot use the same weapon, any weapon will do. Throw her a blade!"

Somebody from the crowd slid a bowie knife on the floor right between Marissa's legs. Molaram unfurled his electro-lash and charged the prongs which crackled and glowed in purple hue. The reflection of the lash in his eyes amplified the hatred.

"This time, you die, freebirth!" Benten hissed and cocked his arm.

Marissa watched the little man putting up a little tour-de-force… and smiled. _Do not make the same maneuver twice. Be unpredictable._ She saw it. Benten was waiting for her to grab the blade, and as soon as she grabbed it, he would strike her arm. It was the exact same maneuver he pulled off against her during their first circle of equal back in 3049, and it was the exact same maneuver he pulled off against Darien at Tukayyid, which resulted in a catastrophe. It was the cardinal sin in Darien's regimen of combat how-to's: _predictability_.

So Marissa bent down and slowly extended her left arm as if she wanted to get it. But she never lost eye contact with Benten. The moment her finger touched the blade, Benten swung his arm, and the crackling prongs raced toward her. But Marissa quickly retracted her left arm. The electro-lash grazed her boots in a murderous scream; shards of hide burst into the air. But against Benten's intention, the lash failed to harm Marissa.

As Benten retracted the lash, Marissa quickly grabbed the blade with her right hand. She made a quick aim and hurled the blade at Benten. A flash of panic spilled from Benten's eyes, but it was all too late. The blade punctured Benten's shoulder, just under the collarbone, and exited cleanly from the shoulderblade. As blood sprayed, Benten's cry of agony filled the lounge. The little man crumbled, curling and writhing on the floor, as his attempts to remove the blade only ended up in debilitating pain.

The crowd exploded into cacophony as Marissa calmly walked toward Benten. He grabbed the hilt and pulled the blade out, accompanied by Benten's scream. Then he grabbed Benten's neck and aimed the blood-dripping blade right between his eyes. The gates of hatred opened at once, and her hands trembled, anticipating the vengeance for everything Benten took from her. Her freedom, her dignity, Seth…

But then, she dropped the blade. As much as she wanted to kill him, it wasn't worth doing.

"Eat this, asshole!" Marissa growled and smashed the hilt on Benten's temple. The pilot crashed to the ground like a big heap of jelly.

The next couple of minutes was a total blur – Marissa didn't know how to feel. Everything mixed into one gigantic ball of feeling that made her head spinning. The next thing she knew, Darien took the blade from her hand. He held her hand up, making sure everybody in the room could witness what he did, and unceremoniously cut Marissa's bondcord.

"You will not need this anymore," he said with a little smirk.

It was when Marissa lost all inhibition. She turned and wrapped her arm on her neck like a vise. "Thank you," she whispered, softly, so only the two of them could hear, "Lover."


	36. Chapter 34

**Chapter XXXIV**

**Note**: This chapter contains graphic violence. Reader's discretion is advised.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Sierra-3325, New Oslo,<br>**__**Wolf Occupation Zone,  
><strong>__**June 15, 3053**_

If there were any other way than a circle of equal, Abby would have it in a heartbeat.

The Wolves were hanging on in the middle of a siege, and they had just lost their commanding officer. Abby just pissed the Cobra Kai to the bitter end, so the mercenaries could ravage the firebase anytime. The last thing the Wolves needed was their two highest-ranking officers beating each other up to pulp.

But as stupid as it was, it was the way of the Clan.

"You have disgraced our Clan, Abby of the Wolf," Star Commander Fabio entered the circle with minimal clothing despite the subzero temperature. "You deliberately disregarded Star Captain Oleg's honor duel! You have turned us into stravag mercenaries and pirates that do not respect anything! I should have never agreed to do this honor duel! I should have put you to jail!"

"And what makes you think you have the authority to apprehend me?" Abby snarled. She stripped her ghost-bear tunic, the one Oleg gave her on her first day at New Oslo. "You, who choose to give way to the barbarians than to fight to the death in the name of the Wolf Clan? You, who cower behind honor and turn the other way when the Wolf Clan needs you the most?"

"Star Captain Oleg lost! The mercenary won! That is the fact, and that is what you should have given your respect to!" Fabio screamed. "I do not like it any less than you do, but that is the truth! You pissed on everybody's sense of honor by doing what you did!"

"The mercenaries do not deserve honor! Oleg should not have gone into the circle of equal with them in the first place!" Abby yelled back. The sinews in her neck bulged so hard they looked about to burst. "New Oslo belonged to Wolf Clan! This firebase belonged to Wolf Clan! I will not… NOT!... give it away to some freebirths! I am the one who should put you in jail for lacking the pride of being a Wolf Clan warrior!"

"This is not pride Abby. This is disgrace. This is stupidity."

"Then let us see who will prevail, my stupidity or your lack of pride as a Wolf," Abby spat and took a fighting stance. "You want to put me in jail? Fight for it, Fabio! At least show everybody you have what it takes to carry the banner of the Wolf Clan!"

Fabio didn't waste more time. He dropped to the ground for a quick leg sweep, but it was too easy for Abby. She just sidestepped the attack and unleashed a roundhouse kick at Fabio's face. The thud was so loud it was heard through the entire firebase. Fabio's head snapped backward, hard, then bobbed and weaved as if his neckbones were all mashed. His body sloshed into the snow.

But when Abby was ready to breathe relieve, Fabio pulled himself out of the snow. Blood streamed down his nose, but he took a fighting stance as if he didn't feel anything. He came forward jabbing, forcing Abby to dodge or block his attacks. His punched didn't have the energy as somebody who really wanted to win the fight. But when Abby started to think it was going to be easy, Fabio slammed his boot on her shin. Abby groaned as she leaned forward, and Fabio sunk his uppercut into her cheek.

Abby rarely got a hit on her face. She didn't even remember what it felt to get hit above her neck. Everything went white like seeing a thunderbolt right in front of her. Then came the pain. It was such great pain that her eyes became waterlogged. Her head felt heavy, and her cheek puffy. Although there was no blood, the damage was probably more severe than Fabio's nose.

But her stubbornness didn't allow her to rest. She pulled herself together and stood, drawing frenzied cheers and boo's from other Wolf comrades that forned the circle of equal. Fabio was in front of her, coming inbound with his jabs. Those jabs were weak because they were not intended to hurt. They were a screen for a big assault behind.

So when Fabio's jabs came, Abby put up her double-cover, allowing just two jabs grazing her arms before heaving her leg up. Her knee hammered Fabio's ribs. Fabio gagged and reeled, dropping his right hand to cover his battered side. Abby fired a left hook, crushing Fabio's unprotected right temple, then proceed with her elbow to strike Fabio behind his right ear. Fabio wobbled on his feet, losing a grip on reality as he slowly fell to the ground.

Abby felt the end of the fight was near, but she was underestimating Fabio's fighting spirit. She went down to grab Fabio's neck, and that was when Fabio grabbed her arm. His left leg slung upward to lock her right arm, and his right leg kicked Abby's right knee. Abby didn't have anywhere else but down. Her temple smashed the ground, and even the soft snow blanket failed to stop a bad gash right on the corner of her right eye.

Fabio still had the advantage. He wrapped his legs around Abby's right arm and stretched it outward. Abby felt every joint in her arm screamed in pain. She writhed to find some room to escape Fabio's death grip, but the more she moved, the farther he stretched her arm, to the point she felt she would lose it. Her joints were practically crying out in agony.

But Abby just wouldn't let herself to lose. If she had to lose an arm, so be it.

In a desperate move, Abby rolled herself backward. This maneuver quadrupled the pressure on her arm, and her shoulder couldn't take it. A loud pop reverberated, along with a shrill of cry from her mouth, vainly trying to weather the brutal pain on her dislocated shoulder. But the dislocation gave her enough room to maneuver. She rotated her arm, and Fabio lost grip of it.

Fabio tried to reposition himself, but Abby came at him with a vengeance. A vicious left hook to the jaw put him back on the ground. Abby mounted him and pinned him to the ground while her left arm smashed his face again. And again. And again. Then she grabbed his hair, pulled it up, then pushed his head as hard as she could. The back of his head smashed into the snowy ground, and that was the end of it. Fabio stopped moving.

Abby let out a scream, a mix of triumph and pain, and struggled to get up. There were some paramedics in Sierra-3325 that could fix her arm, but it had to wait. She had to seize the moment and won the respect – and loyalty – of the her fellow Wolfkins if she wanted to survive the mercenary later on.

"Anybody else?" she growled, weakly, but intensely. "Is there anybody else who want to question my authority?"

Any normal mechwarrior probably could beat Abby in one or two strikes, considering the damage she sustained, but her tenacity freaked out the rest of the Wolf mechwarriors. Nobody made a move.

"I am Acting Star Captain Abby of the Wolf," Abby said. "From now on, you carry my orders. Go back to your stations, warriors! We have a lot to do!"


	37. Chapter 35

**Chapter XXXV**

_**Tamar, Wolf Occupation Zone,  
><strong>__**September 4, 3053**_

The warrior's caste presented a new dimension for Marissa. The day started with daily training to keep her body and mind sharp. Then the better part of the day was spent learning aerial tricks and maneuvers. Star Commander Molaram wanted a tight-woven unit, so he forced his men to work together as much as possible.

That felt strange, considering Marissa was the only one in her unit with "normal" proportion. The rest of the pilots were short, small, with unproportionally large heads and eyes. And she could see in their eyes that they were uncomfortable with her as much as she was uncomfortable with them. Race sentiment, after all, still lingered.

Nights, however, didn't change much. Everybody wound down and ended up in bed with someone else. The racial sentiment within her unit worked out great in the Clan's promiscuity: nobody in her unit had asked to couple with her. Marissa wouldn't mind a bit. It would be physically and mentally challenging to couple with someone with different physical attributes, and it worked both ways.

When she was in need of some relieve, she always came to the same place. She didn't have to worry about getting Darien in trouble anymore, now that she was in the warrior's caste. And although Clan culture encouraged diversification of coupling partner, Marissa always went to the same man. It scared her sometimes, knowing how she felt about Darien and knowing that Darien didn't feel the same way. But she couldn't help it. She never wanted anybody else.

"I miss you," Marissa breathed huskily, fighting her own labored breaths, as she rested her head on his hip. The musky scent of their body fluid turned her on, but coupling with Darien was always exhausting to the point where she feared for her own safety. "I miss the time we spent together."

"You have your own unit now," Darien replied as he wrapped his arms around Marissa's ankles. "Your star mates are your brethrens in arms. They should be in your mind, not me. I should perish from your memory."

"Oh, is that right?" Marissa propped her head, miffed. "Did you expect me to perish from your memory when you were at Satalice?"

"Neg, but it was a totally different situation…"

"Did you couple with anybody else at Satalice?"

"No… neg. Never."

"Then what is the problem?" Marissa scoffed bitterly. "I did not couple with anybody either. Not that I had an option, but that is a different matter. But you… you did not couple with anybody else because you _chose_ not to! We have been a monogamous and exclusive couple since you left for Satalice four years ago. Why is it so hard for you to admit your feelings to me?"

"Do not use weak words," Darien tensed up on the bed. "We are both warriors of Wolf Clan. Emotional attachment will dilute our best judgment in the battlefield."

"Weak? Love is not weak! Love is the strongest bond in human life! Look how many wars were fought – and won – in the name of love! And you do not suppose that I did not do my homework on Sandra Tseng and Hans Jorgenssen, quineg?"

"Neg, and thus you should understand that the Ghost Bear will never be ilClan. They will never reach the prominence the way Wolf did, and will, when we reach Terra."

"So you never thought of me when you were in Satalice?"

"I…" Darien stiffened up uncomfortably. "I longed for your companionship every single day. I wanted to couple with you, and only you. You are my best coupling partner because I have complete enjoyment of coupling when I am with you. But coupling does not justify love. And neither does exclusivity. We can only go that far, and it should only go that far. That is the way of the Clan."

That comment hurt her like a barb, and if Marissa didn't have the prerequisite to act like a Clanner in front of Darien, she would've sunk her face on the pillow and let it go. He obviously didn't have an idea about human feelings. And as a trueborn Clanner, he might not want to understand it. But then, what should she expect from someone that was born out of a metal canister, brought up without the love of a mother, with sole intention to wage war across the galaxy? He was 'engineered' to be a machine of destruction, not a loving human being.

"I pray for you that someday you will find true love," she rested her head back on her chest. "I hope you will find a woman that will do anything for you in the name of love. I hope she is strong enough to go through a Jade Falcon gauntlet to get to you. By that time, you will remember having this conversation with me."

Darien didn't say anything. He just entwined his fingers in between Marissa's plump toes, not knowing exactly how to deal with this situation. Unlike a freeborn like Marissa, personal feelings were not subjected to indulgence in a trueborn's life. Perhaps he should talk to Ranna. Her romp with that Phelan freeborn was well spread, and she should be able to advise him how to deal with emotion. The problem was, instead of defused it, Ranna went along and embraced it. Talking to her – and asking for her advice – would only put him deeper into this emotional maelstrom, a far cry from what he wanted to do in the first place.

"Is that the reason you are still wearing your toe rings?" he asked, wiggling the toe rings on her right index and left middle toes. "True love?"

Marissa felt her cheeks turned into furnaces, and if she could see herself in a mirror, she was certain her face had turned blood red. She never realized that anybody would pay attention since Clanfolks didn't pay homage to accessories.

"It was a souvenir from one chapter of my life," she sighed. "There was this boy I used to…. uhm, couple, and we…" It was hard to explain emotional attachment to somebody who was lacking the concept, but she tried her best to make him understand. "We were committed and monogamous, _coffin mates_ if you will. He wanted to give me something but didn't want anybody to know because… Anyway, he gave me those because they I wore shoes during the day, so nobody would see them, and at nights he would be the only one that could see it."

Judging from the look in Darien's eyes, Marissa decided it was pointless to continue.

"He is dead, but I keep wearing them to remind me of what I was once. Do you want to take them out?"

"They bear no importance to me," Darien sat up on the bed. "You can do whatever you wish."

Marissa would give anything to make him show a little jealousy. But he was as methodical and as cold as he was in the battlefield. There was nothing in his voice that convinced Marissa that he would reciprocate the affection she built for him. As passionate as he could be in their couplings, he would not see her more than a fellow warrior of the Wolf Clan.

It was a bitter fact that she just had to accept as a warrior of the Wolf Clan.

"Are there any future for us?" she coyly asked while wrapping her arms around his. "Any future at all?"

"As long as we both live as warriors of the Wolf Clan, we can keep our exclusive coupling."

It was not exactly what she was looking for, but she knew it was the only one she would get.


	38. Chapter 36

**Chapter XXXVI**

_**Sierra-3325, New Oslo,  
><strong>__**Wolf Occupation Zone,  
><strong>__**December 30, 3053**_

"Here they come!" Abby screamed through her comlink. "Let them walk through the laser gauntlet, then we will take them out at close range!"

Shadows of hulking humanoid machines materialized from the fog. The laser bolts illuminated the shadows in intermittent blitz, but the shadows returned fire with three times the firepower, turning the once dense turret grid into a bonfire field. The fire gave light to the incoming shadows, turning the dark shapes into heavy and assault battlemechs.

A _Mauler_ came into the light at the base's left flank, followed by a _Catapult_ and two _Awesomes_. Missiles leapt into the air as soon as they took shape. The Clan's formation staggered under the assault. A cloud of ferro-fibrous shards burst as a _Hunchback IIC_ and a _Griffin IIC_ dropped down to their knees. The _Mauler_ followed up its attack with cannon rounds, which was quite effective against medium mechs. The _Griffin IIC_ toppled into the snow as its arm went flying in the air.

"Concentrate fire on the big one! One at a time! Fire!" Abby directed her troops.

Three nickel-ferrous slugs, two PPC bolts, and a smorgasbord of autocannon shells hammered the _Mauler_ in the chest. The _Mauler_, well known for its thick ferro-fibrous hide, careened to the left. Its center torso was ripped wide open, gushing out engine oil and coolant and smoke. The structural integrity was still intact, but Abby's vicious attack damaged the gyro, which turned the assault mech virtually dead on its feet.

The effectivity of such "dishonorable" tactics amazed Abby even though ganging up on an enemy was condemned under normal circumstances. At times she started to question the essence of Zellbrigen. It was part of the reason why the Clans failed miserably at Tukayyid. As much as she hated to admit, she started thinking that the Inner Sphere rules of engagement might be more effective than Zellbrigen. And she had proven it herself. The question was: was she ready to evolve, leaving the way of the Clan and adopting Inner Sphere war doctrines? Or was she the stubborn Clanner who upheld Clan's honor, no matter the result would be?

For Abby, there was no question. Victory, not honor, mattered most.

The _Awesomes_ entered the fray with its PPC rain. They, too, concentrated fire on a _Glass Spider_, the biggest threat in Abby's arsenal. The _Glass Spider_ was not armored well enough to withstand four PPC strikes in quick succession. Its body twisted and turned, bleeding fire at where the particle bolts hit. One bolt torched the Gauss rifle on its left arm, resulting in a catastrophic explosion that threw the mech off its feet.

The _Rifleman IIC's_ reacted with laser and autocannon rounds. Geysers of shards burst from the _Awesomes_' chest as they bulldozed their way through the thick counterattack. It was when the UAC20 from the _Hunchback IICs_ started mauling them that they decided it was too much. One of them backpedalled; the other stood its ground, firing at the _Rifleman IICs_.

"Yankee Star, dispatch! Follow my lead!" Abby throttled up toward the stubborn _Awesome_. The large mech saw her move, and knew what she was after, then sprayed its short-ranged missiles, but Abby simply dodged them. Coming in within 350 meter mark, Abby fired her LBX10 squarely at the _Awesome's_ broad chest. The attack had no effect on the assault mech; it barely felt the damaged armor. But Abby's marksmanship pulled several cracks on the thick armor.

"Hit where I hit!" Abby screamed on her comlink as she veered right, avoiding the _Awesome's_ possible counterattack. Two PPC bolts from _Griffin IICs_ cored the armor deeper. Multiple lasers and missiles bored into the cracks. The _Awesome's_ center torso started to glow red, and the loss of mass started to take a toll. It began to sway. Abby skidded and pivoted before taking another shot with her lasers. The bolts melted a sizeable chunk of armor. The _Awesome_ barely hung on, and finally went down when a pair of Gauss slugs bludgeoned the damaged torso to pulp.

But then _Marauders_ and _Archers_ poured into the vicinity from the opposite direction. Missiles and PPC bolts flew in every direction. Another _Glass Spider_ fell under the onslaught, followed by a _Rifleman IIC_. Abby's defense quickly faltered, and the concentrated attack began to lose focus.

"All hands, attack the _Marauders_! Fabio, you come with me!" Abby shifted the attack to the incoming _Marauders_ while she – and hopefully Fabio – would take on the _Catapult_ and _Awesome_. She didn't trust Fabio yet since he was a strong opposition to her plan, but in a life-or-death situation like this, she didn't have a choice. She had to assume that Fabio was would carry her order and rely on him.

Watching Fabio's _Rifleman IIC_ moved in her direction, Abby floored her pedal and lunged at the _Catapult_. The heavy mech launched everything it had, missiles and lasers and all, from point blank range. Abby did her best to dodge the missile storm but half a dozen of them stabbed her side. Her thin armor started to breach, and her warning LED blitzed furiously, telling her that she couldn't take another hit on her left side without critical damage.

Groaning, Abby burnt her jets and took a quick flight. The _Catapult_ tracked her, but her movement was faster than the turret could follow. Landed unopposed, Abby fired her LBX10 at the missile joint, then her lasers, burning a ton of armor. The _Catapult_ staggered, but quickly found better position as it fired its own jets. Multiple lasers lanced the lanky _Clint IIC_, but Abby deftly brought her mech outside the _Catapult_'s firing arc.

"Fabio, the Catapult is latching on me!" Abby said as she tried to outmaneuver the _Catapult_. "Outflank the _Catapult_ and smoke its rear!"

Almost a minute passed without any answer from Fabio, and when Abby wondered where her counterpart went, his signature appeared on her radar, going head-to-head against the _Awesome_. Of course, Fabio was a purist. He wouldn't want to cheat Zellbrigen, even when guaranteed a victory. He saw Abby had already engaged the _Catapult_, so he opted to find another enemy, which was unfortunately an 80-ton assault, leaving the _Catapult_ for Abby to fight alone.

Wincing exasperatedly, Abby fired her LBX10, and cursed its lack of punch when the submunitions stabbed the _Catapult's_ torso without much hurting. It would need two or three more precise shooting to breach the armor, and a couple more to get a critical hit that would seriously hurt the mech. Abby didn't have that much time. She needed to take it down soon.

But it was easier said than done. The _Catapult_ launched its missiles with a vengeance. It took Abby everything she had to dodge most of the missiles, and the ones that still hit her shook her mech so bad she thought her _Clint IIC_ was done. Then the medium lasers came, and they hurt her. Her front armor melted like butter, and her mech wobbled, fighting hard to stay on foot. The feedback signal from the neurohelmet and the acrid ferro-fibrous vapor made her stomach gurgled. Her eyes went waterlogged and even breathing hurt in the cockpit.  
>Abby knew she had to do something radical to beat the <em>Catapult<em>. She went airborne, and watched the wide canopy of the _Catapult_ as it was waiting to recycle its weapons. It never looked that wide from the ground because the angle didn't give her much exposure to the canopy. But from the air, it spread like a blanket in her bed. Wasting no time, Abby pointed her guns at the cockpit and mashed the alpha strike button. Plexiglass shards burst like a geyser, followed by blood and gristle. The _Catapult_ marched forward for some time, then lost balance and slump into the snow.

Abby let out a long cry, channeling out her triumph, then went to her radar to check on the rest of her trinary. It didn't look good for both sides. The _Glass Spiders_ traded blows with the _Marauders_, resulting in four casualties on Abby's side and three on the Inner Sphere side, with another one limping bad. The _Rifleman IICs_ and _Griffin IIC_ backed up the _Glass Spiders_, but their firepower was no match against the steady stream of missiles from the _Archers_. Half of the heavy mechs perished in fireballs while the _Hunchback IICs_ were left scattered like ducklings without their mother.

Fabio, on the other front, didn't help the situation. Going against an assault mech with 20-ton disadvantage proved to be a blunder, or he was just not good enough at close-quarter combat. In any way, his _Rifleman IIC_ was stripped from all weapons, and he just relied on his stubbornness to survive. But time was not on his side, as the _Awesome_ – close to overheating – prepared for the coup de grace.

"Yankee Star, smoke that _Awesome_!" Abby reorganized her assets for a better defense. "XRay star, target the _Archers_! One at a time!"

The remaining _Hunchback IICs_ regrouped and lunged at the _Awesome_. They were too late to save Fabio. His _Rifleman IIC_ exploded as the _Awesome_ scored two fatal strikes with its PPCs. But that last shot put the _Awesome_ in a heat trouble. The _Hunchback IICs_ scored 3 unanswered critical hits with their UAC20s, setting the _Awesome_ ablaze. Limbs and armor splinters blended into metal hail. The _Awesome_ dropped to the ground, shaking in its death throes as the flame ate it away. Two _Hunchback IICs_ took a steady position and fired their large cannons in unison. The big assault mech disintegrated in a brilliant fireball.

Two _Rifleman IICs_ and the remaining _Glass Spider_ picked an _Archer_ as a target and fired everything they had left. The _Archer's_ torso gyrated at the hip when the slugs, laser strands, and cannon rounds strafed its shoulder. Smoke billowed from a bad gash, and the arm popped from its joint, hanging on the socket with a few strands of myomer.

As the _Archer_ struggled to return fire, Abby gave chase to the limping _Marauder_. The 75-ton mech still had one arm with PPC. Abby put her crosshair on the flimsy upper arm, waited until the reticule burnt gold, then hit her trigger. Sparks burst from the _Marauder's_ upper arm, seconds before its PPC crashed to the ground. Left with nothing else to shoot, the _Marauder_ turned away from the battlefield and fled.

It was the last string of destruction the Spheroids were willing to take. Realizing that they could not take the firebase without sacrificing more assets, they chose to fall back and leave.

"Damage report!" Abby hailed her troops while assessing the situation.

"Bad shape, Ovkhan," somebody replied.

"I have only three shots left," another tuned in.

"My battlemech cannot take another hit. I am as good as dead," yet another reported.

And the bad news kept rolling in. Abby's _Clint IIC_ was not in great shape either. Armor was almost nonexistent, and she only had 5 shots left on her LBX10. Her twin medium lasers were mediocre at best against assault machines like the _Awesome_. And Abby didn't even see Zack Mackenzie and his _Battlemaster_. Either he was reserving his assets for the final strike, or he was just scared, Abby didn't know.

This war had turned into a war of attrition, and Abby didn't know how much longer she could hold Sierra-3325.

"Listen, Wolfkins, and listen carefully," she rallied her troops. "Without reinforcement, the next attack will be our last stand. I will try to call Tamar for help. But in case they come late, I want you to know that it has been a privilege to serve the Wolf Clan with warriors like you. Fight well and fight to the death, mechwarriors! It is what we are meant to be!"


	39. Chapter 37

**Chapter XXXVII**

_**Tamar, Wolf Occupation Zone,  
><strong>__**January 14, 3054**_

As if fighting together with small people with large heads was not weird enough, briefing in a room full of small people with large heads crept Marissa out. They chattered and snickered like squirrels, shooting weird gaze at her once in a while. Noboby gave her the courtesy of conversation. She was forced to sit alone, in the center of the room, weathering the weird mumbling and stare from disproportionate people.

Lucky for her, Molaram took a seat next to her and gave her a much-needed attention. "Still an outcast, I see?"

"I have been an outcast all my life," Marissa snorted. "I can take it just fine. Any idea why we are here?"

"Neg, but by the looks of it, I think we are being deployed."

"Where?" Marissa turned her head in slight panic. She was too engrossed in other pilot's attitude to notice that the room was packed with pilots. Something was definitely going on. "Where are we going?"

Molaram just shook his head, just as two high-ranking officers entered the room. One was another small man with large head, but the scars in his face and the glittering commendations in his right chest told Marissa that he was a war veteran, probably even a war hero. The other one was a man with normal proportion, just like herself. There was no doubt that he was a mechwarrior.

"Officer on deck!" a Star Captain yelled and prompted everybody to stand up and salute.

"As you were, pilots. Take a seat," the aerospace officer replied. He turned on the holograph and pulled out a large 3D image of a planet. "We have trouble at New Oslo. The Wolf Clan acquired this planet in 3051, but the local leader escaped off world. He managed to sneak in a horde of mercenary barbarians into the world, and now the Dorbeng Garrison Unit is holding its life against them. Dorbeng has been doing tremendous job holding its own, but it is spreading thin across the entire planet. Without reinforcement, New Oslo will fall back into barbaric chasm.

"Dorbeng Garrison Unit set up five defense points across the planet. Now there are only two left: the capital, where most of the remaining battlemechs are staying, and Sierra-3325, a firebase high in the mountain." The high-ranking pilot zoomed in on the two points on the holographic map, the capital city of New Oslo, and the mountain range where Sierra-3325 firebase was located. "The capital is well defended, but the mercenary barbarians used stravag artillery fire to weaken Wolf's stronghold. Sierra-3325 still holds because of the difficult access. But it will not for long.

"Natasha Kerensky has given out our order," the veteran pilot surmised. "Iota Galaxy will reinforce Dorbeng Garrison Unit at New Oslo."

"The Blue Keshik and 6th Wolf Regulars will relieve the capital," the mechwarrior officer continued the briefing. He zoomed in on the capital region of New Oslo and highlighted three points encompassing the capital. "The capital is in a flat mesa. We will land on Kilo, Lima, and Mike landing zones, and crush the mercenary from 3 different directions. I do not expect this operation will last more than 2 weeks.

"The 17th and 20th Wolf Regulars will relieve Sierra-3325, and here lies the problem," he went on to zoom in on Sierra-3325, large enough for everybody to see the jagged edges of the mountain surrounding the firebase. "Access to the base is limited, and we can only deploy two stars at a time. These two stars are vulnerable from attacks from the mercenaries. I do not want my men to get chewed while waiting for the next wave.

"Therefore, aerospace units of Iota Galaxy will spearhead the battlemech landing. Sweep the area and destroy any mercenary stations surrounding Sierra-3325. Kill them, or drive them off the mountain. I will only deploy my men once the area is cleared from barbarians. This is your job, pilots. This is your moment to shine."

"You know your order," the veteran pilot took the center stage from the mechwarrior. "I will give you the detail once we are at New Oslo. Now dismiss and pack up. We leave in 6 hours."

"Six hours?!" Marissa blurted. Her sudden outburst caught the attention of everybody in the room, and they all turned their heads to give her dirty looks. Marissa shrunk in her seat.

"Do you have something to say, Pilot?" the senior pilot boomed.

"No… neg, Ovkhan," Marissa cringed. "I will be ready in 6 hours."

"Anybody else has something to say?" the senior pilot croaked. When nobody responded, he concluded, "You are dismissed. See you at the landing pad."

"Six hours?" Marissa whispered at Molaram just as the room broke into commotion. "Six hours? That is what we have?"

"We are soldiers of the Wolf Clan," Molaram replied unenthusiastically. "We are combat ready. We go where the Wolf Clan needs us anywhere anytime."

"But…"

"But why are you still here?" Molaram turned to Marissa, annoyed. "You only have 6 hours. Go! Go and do whatever it is you need to do."

Marissa realized she was wasting her time. She quickly got up and snapped a salute at Molaram, then sprinted out of the room. She tried to keep her composure, but her heart felt like about to explode. Suddenly everything would change in six hours, and she barely had time to prepare. No, physically, she was ready. She only had a few pieces of clothing that she could get ready in 3 minutes. It was her life she wasn't ready to change.

Crossing a few miles, Marissa arrived at a battlemech hangar, breathing hard and sweating profusely. But she didn't have time to rest. She scurried the hangar, going from one bay to another, until she found Darien overseeing a major modification of the _Executioner_ he acquired when he won his bloodname. Gone was the signature right hand of the _Executioner_, replaced by a mirror image of its left arm, with stocky short gun. And the omnimech was painted – head to toe – in blood red.

"Are you allowed to do that?" Marissa quipped just as Darien climbed down from the cockpit. "Are you not just putting a bullseye right on your forehead?"

Darien just shrugged and smile. "Do you like it?"

"I am not a fan of red."

"Blood is the color of warriors," Darien gazed proudly at his custom omnimech. "Ancient Roman gladiators were sprinkled with blood before going into the arena. It was customary for those who were about to die in the arena to dress up in red. And do you know what the Spheriods call my mech?" There was a childlike gusto in his eyes when he looked into her eyes. "_Gladiator_."

Marissa scoffed in mock disgust.

"Anyway, why are you here?"

Marissa took a deep breath before saying, "I have been deployed to New Oslo. I will leave in 6 hours."

There was a sign of shock in Darien's face for a full second, but he turned into his usual mundane self faster than Marissa would like him to. "Good. Wolf needs you. It is a chance for you to prove yourself as a warrior of the Wolf Clan."

"I may be there for weeks, months, years… I may not come back."

"It is the life of a warrior."

"I will never see you again."

Darien let out a long breath, then grabbed Marissa in a warm, tight, un-Clan-like embrace. He knew that to Marissa their relationship was more than just between colleagues or brothers-in-arms, and although he didn't understand what it was, he knew it was killing her. The way her body tensed, he knew she was deeply troubled. And he hated it that she had to leave to New Oslo in that condition.

"I do not know what is appropriate to say in your eyes, but I am happy for you," Darien carefully chose his words as to not upset Marissa more. "I hope everything works the way you want it."

He gently pushed Marissa but she came back. Her eyes sprouted flames and desire he had never seen before. "I will not see you for a long time, and I may never see you again. I want my last 6 hours in Tamar to be with you."

"But…"

"I want it," her hand clutched his jaw, forcing him to look straight into her eyes. "I want it, and you will give it to me. I want you to ravish me for one last time before I leave."

"Now?"

"Now, Darien. Now!"

Darien knew she was not to be denied. "Wait in my quarter. Give me some time to wrap things up."

"Five minutes," Marissa grunted, then turned her back at him and left, but not before clamoring in her long-lost Spheroid accent, "If you're late, I'll make you pay dearly!"


	40. Chapter 38

**Chapter XXXVIII**

_Half a league, half a league,  
>Half a league onward,<br>All in the valley of Death_

_~Charge of The Light Brigade, Alfred Lord Tennyson_

* * *

><p><em><strong>Sierra-3325, New Oslo,<br>**__**Wolf Occupation Zone,  
><strong>__**February 6, 3054**_

The smell of death became stronger as Abby's radar showed one Spheroid battlemech after another came into the firebase vicinity. A mix of medium and heavy mechs, with some assaults here and there, stomped the snow field, boxing the firebase from all direction. Sierra-3325 did not have turret defenders anymore, so the Spheroids marched until they were within 500 meters from the main building.

None of the Wolf Clan defenders opened fire. Nothing would change regardless.

"I will give you an offer of _hegira_, and I will only offer this one time," the voice of Captain Zack Mackenzie rang loud and clear on Abby's speaker. "You will walk away from this firebase and you will not be harmed. My troops will guarantee a _safcon_ to the dustoff site of your choice. You and your troops do not have to die today. Take my offer and fight another day."

Abby replied with a wry chuckle. "You freebirths still have a lot to learn about our Culture. Backing out is not an option. Leaving the battlefield is only for cowards. We are ready to die. If you want this firebase, you have to take it from us."

"I won this firebase fair and square against Star Captain Oleg," Zack grimaced. "You are interfering with our batchall. You do not have a right to this firebase. Sierra-3325 is mine. You are disgracing your own Clan, Star Commander Abby. But I am willing to spare you if you just leave this place."

"I do not negotiate with mercenaries," Abby hissed. "And I am acting Star Captain Abby of the Wolf. I, not Oleg, decide if my troops will defend this base until death, regardless your stravag bid with Star Captain Oleg! I am not bound by it, nor my mechwarriors standing next to me. There is only one way to finish this scuffle, and that is the warrior's way!"

"Very well, Star Captain, it is your choice," Zack surmised and raised the right arm of his _Battlemaster,_ lining up his AC20 with Abby's _Clint IIC_. The size of the nozzle was almost as big as the _Clint IIC's_ head. "Die heathen!"

"To the death, Wolfkins! To the death!" Abby screamed from the top of her lung, then ripped the big _Battlemaster_ with her LBX10. Sanded armor flew every which way, but it didn't hurt the assault mech in the slightest. The _Battlemaster_ quickly realigned the AC20, then let it rip. The sound alone could severe the _Clint IIC's_ head as far as Abby's concern. But the shells hammered her shoulder, wiping out armor to the internal structure, and sheared off the right arm, neutralizing Abby's only weapon that could contest the _Battlemaster's_ supremacy. The _Clint IIC_ twisted almost 90 degree, then crumbled to the snow like a log.

Her ears ringing, Abby pulled herself together only to find the battle mirrored her doomed stunt against the _Battlemaster_. The Wolf defenders drew first blood, firing all weapons at the nearest targets, then got overwhelmed by the mercenaries. One by one the Wolf battlemechs exploded, consumed by the ferocity of Inner Sphere weapons.

But before the last Wolf defenders blew up, something else came up in Abby's radar. Blue dots, lots of them, coming so fast and so dense they almost looked like one large blue blotch. Abby looked up to the sky, and dozens of _Sulla_ and _Jagatai_ omnifighters descended like hawks gunning for their preys. Incendiary bombs and armor-piercing warheads spearheaded toward the Spheroid's midst.

In an instance the ground lit up with flames and the Spheroid's formation crumbled. Walls of fire segregated the mercenaries into pockets of two or three battlemechs. The omnifighter returned and strafed the mercenaries, spitting blinding laser and PPC bolts at the trapped mechs. Globules of molten armor sprayed and dripped onto the snow as the flame kept the mechs sluggish, preventing them from mounting return fire.

Abby's lips curled into a smile, just as her comset blinked. She flicked the toggle to establish communication. "Dorbeng Garrison, this is Sigma Two Victor, Iota Galaxy. How many are you left?"

"This is Yankee Alpha, Dorbeng Garrison," Abby had never been so happy to see reinforcement. "Not much at this side of the world. We are about to get overwhelmed by the mercenary barbarians. Thank you coming, Iota Galaxy. Your help is much appreciated."

"You did a tremendous job keeping New Oslo as Wolf possession, Dorbeng Garrison. You have been relieved. Iota Galaxy will take care of the rest. Battlemechs are on their way. Keep your heads down. Sigma Two Victor out."

"Bravo Zulu. Yankee Alpha out."

A few mercenary mechs that were not trapped in the flame started fighting back. Two _Sulla_ omnifighters exploded and spiraled down, crashing down to the ground in fireballs. Another _Jagatai_ lost its tail and plummetted to the ground in near supersonic speed. The quake staggered two mercenary battlemechs who were still struggling with heat. The shards from the explosion scourged the armor, leaving craters and pockmarks all around the body.

The omnifighters regrouped into staggered-grid formation, then unleashed a torrential rain of missiles and particle bolts. The mercenary stood their ground, but the Wolf omnifighters came at them so swiftly and so fiercely that they never got a chance to recover from the incendiary attack. Their counter attack was only sporadic and intermittent, giving the omnifighters all the time they needed to regroup.

Through her broken canopy Abby watched in satisfaction as the Wolf omnifighters drove the mercenary away, inches by inches, from the main building. A couple of heavy mechs couldn't stand the pressure. They crashed and burnt, marring the white snow with smelter and oil and burning debris.

And then, two dropships descended from the sky, thickening the attack on the mercenary with their Gauss slugs. The burning mechs were sitting ducks against the razor-sharp Gauss bombardment. Three heavy mechs fell in quick succession. The omnifighter split into two groups and started picking up the mechs that were not burning. The mercenary mechs fought valiantly, shooting down half a dozen _Jagatai_, but taking damage in the process.

When the dropships landed and spat out _Timberwolves_, the mercenary decided it was too much. The turned around and left the firebase, harassed by the omnifighters and dropships bombardment.

A _Timberwolf_ with a star of Elementals hitchhiking on its back stood next to Abby's downed _Clint IIC_. As the Elementals dismounted, the mechwarrior exited his mech and assisted Abby to get out of her mangled cockpit. He smiled as he looked at Abby's bedraggled façade: unkempt hair, sunken eyes, dry mouth, and ripped cooling vest that revealed almost all of Abby's malnourished body.

"Star Captain Ismail Carns, 17th Wolf Regulars, Iota Galaxy," the mechwarrior introduced himself. "Great work holding on New Oslo, soldier."

"Acting Star Captain Abby, Dorbeng Garrison," Abby smiled weakly. "Thank you for the support."

"Thank Khan Natasha when you get home," Ismail grinned, showing off a train of white teeth. "The dropship is your free ride back to Tamar. Pack up your gears, Star Captain. The Iota Galaxy will take it from here."

Abby couldn't wait to see Natasha again. Perhaps her achievement at New Oslo, albeit unconventional, was her ticket to finally enter her Holy Grail, the 13th Wolf Guards. Perhaps Natasha Kerensky would deem her good enough to fight in her personal unit. For all she cared, she did the Wolf Clan a service only a few Wolves could do. That had to mean something for the Khan.

"Good luck with the mercenary bastards, Star Captain," Abby tapped Ismail's shoulder, then climbed the ramp into one of the dropships.


	41. Chapter 39

**Chapter XXXIX**

_**Albany, New Oslo,  
><strong>__**Wolf Occupation Zone,  
><strong>__**February 8, 3054**_

_Sulla_ omnifighter was, for lack of better words, awesome. The aerodynamics of the 45-ton craft made extreme maneuvering felt like everyday's chores. The powerful booster catapulted the omnifighter from standstill to Mach 1 in half the time of the fastest Inner Sphere aircraft. And still, it could mount weapon systems its Inner Sphere counterparts could only green in envy.

Unfortunately, the omnifighter was not built for "normal" phenotype like Marissa. The large head and wiry body of Clan's aerospace pilot like Molaram enabled it to sustain inhuman G-force, something Marissa couldn't possibly match, even with vigorous training. Simple maneuvers she aced with her old _Spad_ were difficult to do in a _Sulla_. She lost count how many times she experienced G-LoC just by simple maneuvers like barrel roll. She couldn't imagine what would happen to her body if she had to do "dive bomb" in a _Sulla_.

But her lack of physical prowess was compensated well with her targeting accuracy. She picked _Sulla A_ with a balanced combination of laser and missile weapons. The ER Large Laser had equivalent range with Inner Sphere PPC of her old Spad. Her twin LRM10 were suitable for suppressing fire, especially when busting battlemechs from long distance. In that, she proved herself to be worthy of Molaram's accolade.

"Foxtrot Two Niner, this is November Rain," Molaram's voice crackled in her earpiece as he coordinated his attack with ground units. "Need something to go away?"

"The mercenaries are in full retreat," somebody from the ground units gave him sitrep. "Blue Keshik and the 6th are coordinating a final offensive to drive the mercenaries off world for good. We need to keep the mercenaries in line so when the drive takes place all freebirths will perish under our claws. Hound Six-Six Alpha spotted some stragglers two clicks east of Albany. Drive them back to the center, right on Blue Keshik's path."

"Acknowledged, Foxtrot Two Niner. November Rain out." His _Sulla C_ tore a cloud formation in blinding speed. Half a dozen _Sullas_ followed suit. Marissa engaged her afterburner, and gritted her teeth as the G-force nailed her body to the command couch. Her stomach gurgled and her vision started to tunnel down into a world of blackness. Her hand slipped from the joystick.

But she fought it. She had gone through unimaginable suffering to earn her place as Molaram's wingman. She was a Wolf, and wolves hunted together. She was not going to let it slip away from her.

"Objectives sighted," somebody called out. "Five bogeys bearing zero-zero-five, 30 kph, three clicks on my two. Some of them are damaged."

"Contact with two _Marauders_, one _Thunderbolt_, and two _Phoenix Hawks_," another one chimed in. "Combat effectivity is less than 60 percent. They are hurt and they are running away."

"This is November Rain. All points, break right and hit them from their right flank. Welcome to the jungle, Wolves!"

"Copy that. Sweet Child breaking off," Marissa made a hard right bank then barrel-rolled left to line up with the battlemechs. Her reticule turned bright yellow as her missiles locked on one of the _Phoenix Hawks_. "Missiles away!"

Twenty warheads raced from the tubes under her wings, but before they ate even half of the gap between her and the _Phoenix Hawk_, the Inner Sphere mech went airborne, then its chest cracked open and its legs went far back over its shoulder. Marissa's jaw dropped to her chest as the lanky battlemech twisted and contorted into an aerofighter. Brilliant flares burst from its lower legs, now became the rear fuselage of the aerofighter, as it sped into the sky. Marissa's missiles spread aimlessly.

"LAMs!" Marissa pulled her joystick hard, bringing her _Sulla_ to gain altitude quickly. "LAMs at large! Break! Break! Break!"

"All units, stay on the ground pounders!" Molaram roared past Marissa to chase the LAM. "Sweet Child, on my wing! Let us kill some LAMs!"

The other _Phoenix Hawk_ transformed into an aerofighter and quickly latched on Marissa's tail. Her console screamed proximity as multiple missiles raced toward her rocket booster. Marissa ejected her flares and made a series of barrel rolls until her proximity alarm died off. But just when she thought she had lost the LAMs, her cockpit flashed furiously. Laser strands ripped her side armor like paper.

"November Rain, I have to break off," Marissa performed a half loop maneuver. "The other LAM is putting too much heat on me. I have to shake it off."

"Copy Sweet Child. Good luck," Molaram clicked his mike twice before firing his afterburner, chasing the other LAM. Marissa's console screamed again, warning her that the second wave of missiles was underway. Marissa didn't have more flares, so she engaged her afterburner and broke into a hard left turn when the missiles were inches away from her. Three still managed to blast her tail. The entire omnifighter quaked, and her damage screen flashed, signaling a critical hit on her left aileron.

On paper, Marissa's _Sulla_ outperformed the LAM on every aspect, but the mercenary LAM had a significant advantage over her. It had her on her tail. She knew if she didn't overturn the advantage, the LAM would kill her. She summoned all skill she learnt during her time as bondswoman. _Speed. Speed is the essence of war. Vigilance. Asses assets. Speed. Do not repeat maneuver twice. Speed. Be unpredictable. Speed. Speed. Speed….._

Just as the laser cannons of the LAMs flashed, Marissa jerked her joystick back and pulled it so hard the tip of the joystick touched her navel. Her Sulla engaged a half-loop climb, then a slide, then a full barell roll, then a simple yaw that lined up her crosshair with the LAM's tail. Her head felt like it was about to explode, and blood trickled from her nose. But they all went away when she stared at the LAM's hapless nozzles with her guns at the tip of her thumb.

The LAM was so clueless it just glided over the plain.

"Your ass is mine, freebirth!" Marissa grinned as she fired every weapon in her arsenal. Her lasers carved a deep crack right in the middle of the LAM's twin boosters, and her missiles exploded it into a fiery hemorrhage. Flames and smoke billowed from the rear fuselage. The LAM staggered to stay afloat, but its jets were still fully functional, although clearly not for long.

The LAM transformed into a hybrid mode – a jet with legs – for aerial stability and fired defensive shots at Marissa. She easily dodged the attack and climbed, taking some altitude over the doomed LAM, then dove like a hawk plunging for its prey. She fired her missiles at the LAM's engines, using the flame as a beacon. The LAM didn't have enough power to snake out of her attack. The left engine exploded into a fireball, and the LAM spiraled down to the ground.

"Enemy dispatched," Marissa reported, turning her Sulla around to find Molaram. "November Rain, do you read?"

"Sweet Child, this is November Rain," Molaram's voice came back loud and crisp. "How are you holding up?"

"I am hit but I am fine," Marissa leveled off, waiting for Molaram's _Sulla C_ to fly beside her. "Knocking on heaven's door, but I manage."

"Good work, kid," Molaram gave her a thumb up. "Regroup with the others."

But the rest of the _Sulla_ omnifighters didn't meet any real threat. The battlemechs were so morally beat up that they retreated quickly after a few pass of bombing and missile shooting. They went back toward the capital city of Albany, right when dozens of _Helbringers_, _Summoners_, and _Timberwolves_ poured into the city from the opposite directions. The Wolves rolled over them like a tidal wave.

"November Rain, this is Kilo Mike Seven. Much thanks for the support."

"Our pleasure, ground pounders. Carry on. Bring the mercenaries to their knees."

"Bravo Zulu. Kilo Mike Seven out."

Gliding over the capital city of Albany, Marissa watched as the omnimechs tore through the mercenary defense, layer by layer, as if their battlemechs were made from cork. The few remaining mechs opted to clear the city, leaving behind pillars of smoke from their downed comrades, with Wolf omnimechs hot on their tails. She had heard snippets how the mercenary almost beat the Wolf Clan in this world, but the sheer stubbornness of the Dorbeng Garrison Unit prevented it to happen.

For the first time in her life, Marissa was glad she was on the winning side of the war.

"Return to base," Molaram said as he flew over the scorching Albany. "Let the ground pounders clean this mess up."


	42. Chapter 40

**Chapter XL**

_**Albany, New Oslo,  
><strong>__**Wolf Occupation Zone,  
><strong>__**April 1, 3054**_

The lumbering sight of Overlord dropship struck fear even in the most experienced pilots and mechwarriors that came to take it down. The egg-shape shell was riddled with gun nozzles and missile launchers. The armor hide was thick enough to sustain firepower from an entire binary of omnimech for a full minute. And when it was sandwiched between two Union dropships, the crossfire it could muster was undoubtedly lethal.

It was unfortunate for the Clan warriors that the last leg of their re-conquest of New Oslo was to pursue the fleeing Cobra Kai mercenaries to their dropships. The suppressing fire from the dropships had cost the 20th Wolf Regulars half of its omnimechs. The Blue Keshik and the 6th Wolf Regulars were still hesitant to push forward, considering the option of letting the mercenaries go to conserve assets. And the aerofighters fell down like leaves in autumn.

But orders were orders. _Take no prisoner. Let no mercenary escape. Kill all survivors._

"Inbound!" Marissa cried out, slamming her joystick against the side of her left thigh, bringing her _Sulla_ into a tight barrel roll. Trail of white smoke flashed left and right. Her chaffs were long gone, foolishly dumped at the first missile attack. And now she had to dodge the fire without decoys. "Where the hell is the 6th Regulars? We cannot stand this onslaught alone!"

"Bravo Actual, do you read?" Molaram called the field commander of the assault. "Bravo Actual, we need the Blue Keshik and the 6th to lift the pressure! We cannot bear this fight alone!"

"Oscar Niner, what is the holdup?"

"Bravo Actual, we are repositioning battlemechs to minimize casualties…"

"Relieve the 20th now, you lazy stravag! Now!"

"With all due resp…"

"Now, Oscar Niner, now! Get out and smoke those dropships or all of you go _dezgra_!"

As omnimechs started pouring into the landing pad, the suppressing fire went diversed, giving the 20th Wolf Regulars and the aerofighters some room to breathe. Marissa climbed some altitude to get herself out of the crossfire, then formed up with Molaram and the two remaining _Sullas_ of her star.

"On my mark, open fire into the dropship's door bay," Molaram orchestrated his attack as he descended upon the closest Union, still taking battlemechs into its bay doors. With its bays open wide, Marissa could see the interior of the dropship. Battlemechs were being secured while another lance raced on the ramp to get inside. The dropship fired its guns furiously, but with omnimechs and aerofighters coming from all direction, its marksmanship was scattered into futility.

"I need one pass!" Molaram's voice tightened as they went closer to the Union. "Give everything you have got! One pass and shoot hard! Wolves, fire!"

Lasers, missiles, particle bolts, and armor-piercing shells raced into the bay door. Fuel conduits breached, ammunition stacks blazed into uncontrollable fire, and technicians and mechwarriors alike were swallowed by the raging flames. Tongues of fire danced from half of the gun's nozzles. Explosions ripped half of the dropship's innards. The thick armor platings held the dropship together, but the unprotected interior turned into an inferno, killig virtually everybody.

The fire served as a beacon for the rest of the omnimechs. The Blue Keshik and the 6th Wolf Regulars, who had shied away from direct confrontation, braved the suppressing fire from the Overlord and rained down their firepower on the flaming Union. Gauss slugs and particle bolts tore away at the armor, weakening the structure that had been eaten away by the fire from the inside. A well-placed missile salvo pulled a large crack on the side. Three Gauss slugs exploited the gap, and it was all the dropship could take. The metal orb disintegrated in uproarious bang.

Losing one dropship made the crossfire go limp. More grounds were uncovered. At the same time, the Wolf warriors seized the momentum and fired at the remaining two dropships at will. The landing pad went alive with fire and explosions, and although a third of omnimech crashed and burnt in hellish bonfire, the rest kept up the pressure, peeling the armor of the dropships layer by layer, until they started scoring critical hits.

The mercenaries decided it was enough.

"Sweet Child to November Rain, the dropships are getting away!" Marissa reported as the Overlord blasted all engines and rumbled to the sky with the Union in pursuit. The Union, however, was bleeding fire from one of its engines and noticeably ran slower than the Overlord. "We have a straggler here!"

"All units, target the central engine!" Molaram went to a dive under the Union. Marissa followed her leader's maneuver, targeting the engine from the dropship's blind spot, then joined two dozen other aerofighter to fire on the union engines. It didn't take long for the engines to explode and stop thrusting. The dropship reeled back to the ground, and blasted into a big fireball when the hull was crushed under its own bodyweight.

Marissa quickly went back to give the Overlord a chase, but the large dropship had already gone out of reach.

"Let that one go, Sweet Child," Molaram crackled on the comlink as if he could read Marissa's mind. "We have done all we could. Form up on me."

Marissa let her _Sulla_ glide to Molaram's left side, watching the carnage that were the two Union wrecks. A number of mercenary battlemechs were too late and left behind. They had no chance but to surrender, only to find out that the Wolves were not taking prisoners at this point. Most of them were burnt alive when their battlemechs exploded. Those who made it out onto the ground were quickly wiped out by Elementals.

Marissa took a pass over the landing pad, then touched down at the clear runway north of the two Union wreckages. She climbed down her _Sulla_ and followed Molaram who, landing a few meters next to her, walked toward a lumbering _Timberwolf_ mech.

"Star Commander Molaram, mission accomplished," Molaram reported. "All mercenary units have been vanquished except one escaped Overlord dropship. We could have gotten it too, but we were too sluggish when it was still on the ground."

"It was not your fault, Star Commander," the mechwarrior replied. "The Blue Keshik and the 6th came in late. You and your team did a tremendous job backing up the 20th so they were not overrun. And you keep their morale high by initiating the attack on the Union. This will go down as a golden record in your codex, Star Commander."

"Thank you, Ovkhan," Molaram gave a courtesy nod.

"By the way, Star Captain Zubin Mehta was killed in action. You are now Star Captain Molaram of the Wolf."

"Much obliged, Ovkhan," Molaram nodded one more time, but with much wider grin this time. "It is my honor to serve the Wolf Clan."

"Serve our Clan with pride, Star Captain," the mechwarrior gave him a cold reply, then walked toward a group of mechwarriors in the distance. "I will have a word with the Blue Keshik and the 6th Wolf Regulars."

Molaram watched until the mechwarrior was far enough to hear him, then turned to Marissa. "As you have heard, there is a spot for Star Commander in my squadron. Do you think you are up to it?"

Marissa's lips curled into a smile. Beating trueborn pilots for Star Commandership? Leading a wolf pack with in an extremely agile _Sulla_? Walking in Phelan Kell's steps as a bondsman who made it to front-line leadership? _Why the hell not? Bring it on!_

"I am your girl, Star Captain," she smiled broadly.

"Well then, carry on, Star Commander," Molaram smiled back. "But do not get comfortable too quickly. New Oslo might still be Wolf's, but the war is far from over. I expect you to run your own patrol in 12 hours."

"Consider it done, Ovkhan," Marissa snapped a quick salute, then walked away to find solace near her aerofighter. It was a stellar improvement, considering she obtained it with blood and tears for four long years, but it was still overwhelming even for her. She couldn't wait to see Darien's face when she met him again wearing a star badge on her shoulder. An Inner Spheroid with a Clan star, imagine that.

"Thank you, Darien," she whispered as she looked at the sky, wondering if he would ever see him again. "Thank you for all you've done."

* * *

><p><span><strong>Note<strong>: Stage II is complete. I planned for a few more chapters for Abby and Marissa in the Refusal War, but I'm running out of juice, so I'll just end it here. I'll upload an epilogue to give it a bookend finish.


	43. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

_**Tamar,  
><strong>__**Wolf Occupation Zone,  
><strong>__**September 4, 3057**_

The room, although full of attendants, was dead quite.

For the past few months, Abby had been campaigning herself for the much-coveted spot at the 13th Wolf Guards, based on her "stellar" performance against overwhelming mercenary force at New Oslo. The Trial of Refusal that Ulric instigated against the Jade Falcon Clan would be a hotbed for young Wolves eager to prove their worths against the Clan's arc-nemessis. But these young warriors had no experience. They merely graduated from boot camp. They would need skill and experience of seasoned warrior like Abby, somebody who knew how to survive when survival was virtually impossible. The Wolf needed her.

But somehow, somewhere, the charge of dishonorable conduct surfaced at the worst possible time. Somebody brought up the incident where Abby dishonored the result of a batchall between the deceased Star Captain Oleg and the mercenary Captain Zack Mackenzie. Wolf's internal affairs, hungry of recognition, hammered Abby's campaign to take part in the Trial of Refusal, and thus she engaged in a bitter battle against Wolf's high command. She tirelessly hung on behind her argument that New Oslo would've been fallen into the mercenary's hand had she adhered to Oleg's bidding. But the Wolf's high command cared about one and only one thing: honor.

And so she was standing in this room to receive her verdict. All eyes were onto her, showering her with conceited yet pitiful stares. If Abby could challenge them in an honor duel, she would spend all day taking them on, one by one, to prove her worth. Unfortunately they held higher ranks than her, although they had never escaped from near-death situation the way she did.

"Star Captain Abby of the Wolf," the head jury, an old woman, broke the silence, and even before the verdict was read, Abby knew her fate was sealed. "We have reviewed your codex. We have reviewed the charge against you at New Oslo. We have discussed your service for the Wolf Clan. You have excellent skill, determination, and loyalty to the Wolf Clan that only few can match. But you also have an incorrigible thirst of winning, an Inner Sphere trait that separates us – supreme honorable warriors – from lowly barbaric Inner Sphere scums. While you think you do us a favor, your action actually hurts more than helps.

"Therefore, as an appreciation of your loyalty, you can keep your Star Captaincy. But you will not go to the Trial of Refusal. You will go back to New Oslo to relieve Iota Galaxy."

If it were so much as to go the opposite way, Abby would accept it with a smile from ear to ear. She wouldn't mind getting demoted to a Point Commander as long as she could crush the Jade Falcon savashri with Natasha Kerensky. But this… this was unacceptable. Not in a million years.

"Ovkhan, I gave you New Oslo!" Abby grimaced in her reply. "Star Captain Oleg should not negotiate with a mercenary! That batchall was a disgrace to the Wolf Clan, and no sane Wolf warrior should take it! It was wrong, and only because of me the Wolf Clan still has total control of New Oslo! I saved the Wolf Clan from Oleg's reckless bid! I did the Wolf Clan honor! How much honor have you given your Clan?"

"You gave Wolf Clan New Oslo, but you didn't give Wolf Clan honor," the old woman replied, more sternly than when she read the verdict. "You turned the face of Wolf Clan into a cheating hyenna that would do anything for a bite. You scorn Inner Sphere mercenaries but you act exactly like them. The Wolf Clan cannot afford to have a lose cannon like you."

"Do you think you can sit here and judge my action in the moment of death and life?" Abby had lost all decency. "You, who do not look into the eyes of the enemies when you kill them, and who do not look into your brethren as they die in your arms? Do you think you have the audacity to act like the Khan and cut anybody as you see fit?"

"The verdict is just and final, Star Captain Abby," the old woman thundered. "Star Captaincy for New Oslo, New Oslo for dishonoring Star Captain Oleg and Wolf Touman. That is all there is to it."

"Stravag! Stravag, all of you!" Abby barreled out her frustration.

"Would you like to take this up to Khan Natasha Kerensky?"

Of course not. That would've been a career suicide. "Neg, Ovkhan. Just forget it."

"Your redeployment to New Oslo would be in two days. In the mean time…"

Abby didn't even stay for the rest of the announcement. She just stepped out of the room. With her age pushing solahma zone, she knew she only had a small window of opportunity to make it to the big league. She thought New Oslo could be her stepping stone to more glory. It turned out that she might not get out of New Oslo. But who else was there to blame? It was her ambition that launched her career and it was her ambition that sank it.

If she could turn back time and do things all over again, would she do it differently?

Maybe not.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Sudeten,<br>**__**Jade Falcon Occupation Zone,  
><strong>__**November 30, 3057**_

Marissa shifted uncomfortably in the command couch as she brought her _Sulla_ into the final pass above the landing strip. Dropships, aerofighters, and battlemechs scattered lazily along the landing site. Her escorted dropship had long touched down, spitting omnimechs even before its engine stopped spewing smoke. Ordnances were stacked up in piles, and for a second she wondered how many of them would see the end of the war.

But Marissa wasn't interested in Wolf's war machines and ammunitions. Three long excrutiating years of guarding the cold world of New Oslo had driven her nuts. There was nothing to do besides getting bored. Juggling patrol roster and switching wingmen were exciting at first, but after 6 months it became a chore. Her subordinates hated her for being a freeborn – or _freebirth_, she was sure that was what they called her – but nobody had ever challenge her authority. Clan warriors followed her orders like robots.

And most of all, she missed Darien.

And now, as Iota Galaxy had been redeployed to Sudeten to partake in the Trial of Refusal against the Jade Falcon, life suddenly lit up again. Marissa couldn't wait to tell Darien about the battles of New Oslo. She couldn't wait to show off her single star on her shoulder, and hoped that Darien was still a Star Commander, so for the first time since they met at Tamar, Darien didn't outrank her anymore. She couldn't imagine how exciting it was when they took it to bed. Her body had been aching for him for a long time. Her brain wouldn't compromise; it was him all over her mind, even though she was technically still on duty.

The _Sulla_ landed with a thud, and Marissa didn't even wait for the tech to bring her ladders. She threw her helmet off and jumped out of the cockpit, nearly dislocating her ankle as she landed. But she shrugged off the pain, and came very close to sprinting if not because of Molaram calling her for a briefing.

"Our front line is doing very well against the Jade Falcon," Molaram started a holographic map of Sudeten on a table inside a tent. "We are pushing the Falcons inch by inch. By this rate, we will reach the capital Hammar in 3 weeks. However, Khan Kerensky feels that sometimes everything goes too easy. The Jade Falcons are not known for intelligence and trickery, but we still have to be careful. Sudeten is still the Falcon's playground. They know the area much more than we do. I want you to set up recon runs all over Hammar. Find out what kind of shenanigans Crichel and Chistu are playing."

"Yessir," Marissa replied briskly. "Anything else, Sir?"

Molaram caught the impatient tone in her voice, and it took him a while to understand what she was going through. "That will be all for now, Star Commander. Just promise me something."

"Anything, Ovkhan."

"Do not wake me up when you are with him."

Marissa couldn't stop her snort when she laughed. Molaram must have caught her noisily enjoying her coupling with Darien, or heard about it from somebody. It was true, she often lost control of herself in her passionate moments, but she couldn't help it. Nor would she want to stop even if she could. She loved him. She wanted it to happen. And after being apart for three years, she knew that she would have a hard time containing herself. She could wake the entire base for all she cared.

"I will try," she gave Molaram a quick playful wink, then ran off the tent. She tried to locate his mech – it shouldn't be hard to spot his blood-red _Executioner_ in a sea of yellow-brown mechs – but she couldn't find it. She guessed he must have been on duty, so she decided to stop by and ask a technician.

"Where is the 13th Wolf Guards?" she said impatiently.

The technician gave her a pitiful look. "You just got here, quiaff?"

"Aff," Marissa winced, and sensed something terrible from the tech's response.

"The 13th Wolf Guards have been sent to the Inner Sphere."

"What?" she screamed involuntarily. Her body started to shut down. "Where? Why? By whose authority?"

"The order came from Ulric Kerensky himself, so not much is known about it. But that stravag Phelan Ward led them out of Sudeten. Thus, we are left to fight the Falcons without our best unit. What a shame!"

"Why would Ulric do that?" Marissa whispered in defeat. "Are they coming back?"

"The mercenary savashri led them back to the Inner Sphere. I would be surprised if they come back."

"But…"

"They are gone, Ovkhan."

Marissa didn't want to believe this. All the hope, all the expectation, all the energy she spent to meet Darien again was just a waste. It was such a cruel turn of event she felt she could cry. And she hadn't cried for a long, long time.

"Are you sure they are not coming back?"

"No, Ovkhan, they are not coming back. We are what are left of the Wolf Touman."

"Darien, you cheating bastard!" she whispered, drawing a confused look from the tech, but she quickly left him before unwanted questions started bombarding her. She found a deserted place, and sat there for a long time, watching the sky turned slowly dark for the night was taking over from the day. Her entire body fought the fact that she would never see him again, but her brain slowly took it in. She would never see him again.

"Good luck out there, love," she whispered as tears started to flood her face. "Inner Sphere is a savage place. I know. I've been there. Keep your guard up. Don't' try to be a hero. It sucks to be one. And please, find love. Find somebody that will do for you what you did for me. But if you decide it is me you want… I am here. I am not going anywhere."

**THE END**

* * *

><p>At this point, the "Ballad of Parker Kerensky" is complete. I have written up every stage of his life, from an idealistic but oblivious young cadet to a wise old man living off his life in the middle of nowhere (although technically this story is not <em>about<em> him, it is designed _around_ him). It is time to turn off the light and say "goodnight" to him.

I originally planned this story for just 20 chapters, but I had such fun writing it I added 20 more. This is a prequel to _**I,Kerensky**_ (or IK1) and there is still a large gap between the end of Chapter 40 to the Epilogue that I can exploit (3 years plus Refusal War), but I don't see many interesting things that can be expanded.

Thank you for **stonegnome**, **Ulquiorra9000**, **The Colonel**, and many others that enjoy this story in particular (and Parker's adventure as a whole). Right now I am taking a detour to Zoids since I feel a little burnt out in BattleTech universe. If you like my writing style, come check my new Zoid fanfic _**Off We Go Into The Wild Blue Yonder**_. It may not be in the quality of IK series (yet) but it's lighter in mood and fun to write. But I'm not completely gone from here. If the mood strikes me right, I'll post more one-shot fanfics on my _**Knights in FerroFibrous Armor**_ compilation. I do have 2 ideas for Knights series. I just have to find time and the mood to write them.


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